


Existential

by angelwings80



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwings80/pseuds/angelwings80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is slaughtered by his Sworn Brothers, releasing him from his vows.  Held between life and death, blood creates a new vow he never anticipated but can't live without.</p><p>The story of Jon and Sansa will be written in the songs but for them, it has been written in blood and fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on a dream I had a few nights ago about someone I lost. I thought it was an interesting premise for a story so here it is.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr!  
> http://angelwings1980.tumblr.com/

Jon was no longer Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.  He had fulfilled his vows, most of them anyhow, until the moment of his death.  As the daggers pierced his body, he felt himself float above the chaos, looking down at the scene to see his sworn brothers still stabbing his flesh as his blood poured into the snow.  For the first time in his life, he was free.  Free from labels like bastard, free from the grief of his losses, and free from the vows he took before he was old enough or mature enough to truly understand what he was committing his life to.  He could still feel the tie to Ghost, his direwolf and companion.  Jon didn’t understand the connection but it provided comfort as he transitioned into wherever the fuck he was going.  He wondered idly if this meant he was going to see his Father and Robb. He half expected to hear Ygritte call his name.  He had always imagined that they would be there, waiting for him when he met his demise but the only thing surrounding him was darkness.  Even his view of his own murder had faded and he was left in blackness with nothing but his thoughts to pass the time. 

How does time pass when you are dead?  Clearly death isn’t the final chapter because he was slaughtered.  He knew he was dead when he watched the life drain from his eyes as he left his physical body.  Yet here he was….still very much in existence though he wasn’t sure what that meant.

In the weeks before his death, Jon had a series of vivid dreams.  He would wake drenched in sweat, shaking from a combination of the cold air on his moist skin and a sense of foreboding that would rock him to his very core.  The dreams had become so realistic, he found himself rushing to write down the details right after waking so he wouldn’t forget them as the day wore on.  He had written nearly an entire book full of his dreams by the time he met his end.  He wondered what people would think when the journal was found or if they would even care.  He found himself half hoping that the Watch would burn his belongings and his short time in the world would be forgotten, as if he hadn’t existed.  Jon didn’t figure he had contributed much anyhow so it seemed better that way.  Except for those he loved and had loved him.

The blackness surrounding him gradually changed into colors.  It reminded him of the sun rising over a dark, cold night.  Jon became aware that he could see something but he couldn’t make out exactly what it was.  It was bright and he seemed to be drawn to it even though he wanted to look away.  He could feel himself floating towards the brightness and as he got closer, he realized it was fire.  Not just fire, but his funeral pyre.  His body was being burned.

_Well, at least that’s something.  I won’t be a meat bag with blue eyes, slaughtering indiscriminately._

There were many people standing around his pyre, not one of his murderers were there though.  Figures.  An act of cowardice.  The idea almost amused him until his attention was drawn to a woman standing separate from everyone else.  He knew this woman though he hadn’t seen her in this form.  Her red hair and blue eyes told him immediately who she was.  It was Sansa.  His sister.  But somehow he knew she wasn’t his sister.  Fear gripped him as the realization of the truth of his life became clear.  He didn’t know where the information was coming from but he understood now that Ned had not been his Father any more than Sansa had been his sister.  He was of Stark blood but he had not been sired by Ned Stark but rather, his sister Lyanna, a woman long dead.  A flood of truths came into his mind from a hidden source, clarifying so many things he had wondered about in his life. 

A sudden panic seized him when he saw that Sansa was not alone.  Standing next to her was the Red woman.  He had the urge to pull Sansa away from the priestess as quickly as he could.  He knew what this witch was doing.  She was using Sansa to pull at Jon.  He could feel the tugging as he was brought closer and closer to the fire.  The Red woman had Sansa’s hand in her palm, the blade of a knife slicing through her delicate skin, the resulting blood was shockingly red to his eyes.  He couldn’t hear what Melisandre was saying to Sansa but a few seconds later, her hand was sliding through the air, the red blood spraying into the fire and causing it to cascade higher and change from orange to the same color red as Sansa’s blood. 

It was then that Jon understood what his tie to Ghost meant.  It was like an ethereal rope, tying him to the world he was desperately trying to leave.  Ghost stood by Sansa’s side, watching cautiously as the Red woman performed the ritual.  Jon could feel Ghost’s apprehension.  He didn’t want this woman anywhere near Sansa either but he was allowing it for a higher purpose. 

Jon could still feel something tugging at him.  It was relentless as it pulled him closer and closer to the funeral pyre.  Before he knew what had happened to him, he was surrounded by the fire and he could see the flames from within the pyre.  In a matter of seconds, he could feel those flames licking his skin, the pain was intense and all consuming. 

_How can I feel pain when I don’t have a body?_

The agony of the flames seemed to go on forever.  He had allowed his mind to wander in an effort to remove himself from the torture surging through his body.  He couldn’t see Sansa anymore but he could feel her.  Jon could feel something emanating from her that made his soul surge, it was love.  A girl who had never seemed to have given him a second thought in his physical life was standing here grieving his loss.  He could feel her pain and it intensified his.  He desperately wished to console her, hold her in his arms and wipe away her tears.  He could hear her thoughts and knew without explanation what she had been through since their days in Winterfell.  He felt rage as he saw the men who exploited her, the courtiers that manipulated her, and the heartache she had to suffer in silence because nobody cared about her personally, just her name.

The pain from the flames had begun to decrease, leaving behind a dull ache.  Jon could see the pink in the sky as the sun rose on a new day.  The air around him felt cool but not uncomfortable. 

_Felt?  The dead don’t feel anything.  We’re fucking dead._

He flexed his fingers, astonished by the feeling of the movement.  He had a physical body again, there was no doubt about that.  He could see and hear what was going on around him and was aware of the fact that all the mourners had left, leaving only Sansa standing beside his pyre.  The wood still smoldered but he did not.  He brought his hand into his line of vision and was surprised to see that not only did he not have any trace of burns, he didn’t even have soot on him.  His body was in pristine condition.  He stood up, the sensation feeling foreign after what seemed like ages of floating in darkness and took a deep breath.  Looking down at his feet, he was still surprised by the lack of damage to his body.  Even the knife wounds and the scars were gone.  His skin was perfect.  His body didn’t have a blemish on it but it also didn’t have any clothes on it either.  He was standing exposed and when he raised his eyes, they met with the blue eyes of Sansa Stark.  It was like a bolt of lightning had shot through his body as she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  He took her in his arms, squeezing her to his body for a few seconds before realizing he could hear what she was thinking.  Pulling back from her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her lips fiercely.

_This is a story that will be written in songs._


	2. Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little tidbit of what I have been writing. I will be updating the story again tonight or early morning (Depending on how my work night goes) I'm just diddling with the idea of what Jon and Sansa are now dealing with and hinting at the tie they have to one another.

“Jon,” Sansa said desperately.  “Please.  Put these clothes on, we have to leave.  We have to leave right now!”

Sansa had managed to get Jon to his chamber but he had stood in the middle of the room, expressionless for the better part of an hour as she frantically collected clothing and supplies for them to leave Castle Black.  She could feel his confusion and worse, his fear.  This man who had faced some of the most horrific things in the World had been reduced to a statue that struggled to stand on knees that felt like they would fall out from beneath him.  Though he hadn’t physically moved, Sansa knew he was watching her every step, allowing himself to take solace in her presence.

Walking towards him, she picked his clothes up from the bed.  “Jon,” she said quietly.  “I’m going to help you get dressed okay?”

Sansa could see Jon’s body tense as she came closer to him.  She could hear his increase in breathing and feel the panic surge through him.  Even though she had been told what to expect, she still found it strange to feel another person’s emotions as if they were her own.  She had been trying to tune Jon’s thoughts out as she gathered the things they would need for their trip but she was finding it almost impossible.  In this agitated state, his thoughts sounded like screaming in her head.  She desperately wanted to find a way to ignore it not because it was hurting her, she would take whatever pain he needed to pass on, but because she wanted to give him his privacy.  Some of the things he had going through his mind were supposed to be his, and only his.  She felt like an intruder in his sanctuary.

Sansa placed her hand flat against his chest, intentionally aiming over his heart.  She could feel the hard thumping as his blood rushed through his body.  The muscles under his hot skin remained taut and when she pressed her fingers against them lightly, there was no give.  Jon felt like stone, a rock that was breathing.  She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes but fought against letting them slip down her face.  It was a battle she was losing and as they spilled over, the expression on Jon’s face softened.  He looked down at her, raising his fingers to wipe her tears.

“Jon,” she whispered.  “You’re going to be okay.  I am going to find a way to make this right.”

“We.”

“What?” Sansa asked, startled to hear Jon speak for the first time since he left the flames.

“We,” he repeated.  “We are going to be okay.  We are going to find a way to make this right.”

“This is my fault!” She sobbed.  “I shouldn’t have done this.  I’m so sorry!  I just can’t…”

“I’m here,” Jon said.  “We are here.”

“I need you to get dressed,” Sansa said.  She had to get them out of there.  There would be time to speak of what had happened once they were away from those who sought to send Jon back.  In a frenzy, Sansa began to help Jon put his clothing on.  She could hear him gasp every time her fingers made contact with his skin as she put his tunic over his head and helped him tie his breeches.  She could feel the same pulse between them but she had the advantage of knowing what it was and why it happened.  Even though Sansa could disconnect herself from reading his thoughts as if they were words in a book, she didn’t have the ability to stop the emotional connection between her and Jon.  She wasn’t sure which one was more invasive, knowing what he was thinking or knowing how he felt.

There were no more words said between them as they made their way back to the courtyard but Sansa could see the chaos in Jon’s mind.  Strangely, it was a plethora of images and colors that made no logical sense but gave her the sensation of screaming.  Holding tight to Jon’s hand, she walked rapidly, pushing men out of the way as she closed in on the horse they would be making their escape with.  The men weren’t willing to move out of her way but stepped aside when they saw Jon behind her.  It was as if he was the carrier of some terrible, contagious disease.  The thought made her lip turn up into something of a smirk. 

The chatter around them increased in volume as she fastened their bags to the mare.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see a few men moving closer to them. 

“Lady Sansa,” one of the men said loudly.  Before having a chance to respond, Sansa could feel a surge in her chest, she knew it was Jon.  Turning around, she was shocked to see the man who had called her name in Jon’s grasp.  Specifically, Jon had his hand around the man’s neck, squeezing hard enough for the man to audibly struggle for air. 

“Jon,” Sansa said softly.  She reached for the hand wrapped around the man’s throat, touching it lightly. “Let him go.”  Jon slowly released his grip, keeping his hand at the man’s neck.  “Jon, give me your hands.”

Jon did as he was told, Sansa lifted his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles.  “It’s okay.  We are leaving.  Nobody is going to hurt me.  Get in the saddle,” she said point towards the horse they would have to share.  Jon mounted the horse, extending his hand to Sansa.  She took his hand but opted to ride behind him, something she could tell bothered Jon.

“I’m not a lady,” he huffed.  “You should be in front of me.”

“No, you are not a lady.  I am your lady and I will ride behind you.  I have your back, now let’s go.” She said calmly yet sternly.

She knew Jon considered her care of him to be insulting.  He was a grown man and he had been raised by Ned Stark, he was a true northern man and with that came chivalry.  She wasn’t trying to put him below her, she was going to make sure that for the rest of their lives, anything or anyone that came at Jon would be seen by her first.  She would guard him against those who sought to hurt him just as he would do for her.  Their existence now depended on one another, one cannot continue without the other.

And Sansa wouldn’t have it any other way.


	3. Love Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna earn the explicit tag next chapter.....

Sansa couldn’t sleep.  The air was bitterly cold and even the fire couldn’t provide enough warmth to let her rest.  She sat by the fire, watching Jon sleep fitfully through the flames.  They had finally stopped to rest as the sun went down.  Hours in the saddle had left her sore, but at least they had put a good distance between themselves and Castle Black.  Once they had gotten clear of the immediate danger, Jon had started speaking again.  She could sense that he was still holding back but at least he wasn’t leaving her to search his mind to gauge how he was feeling.  They had even managed to enjoy their conversations, slipping easily into a comfortable place with each other.  She had allowed herself to wander off in thought as she stared at Jon, her vision blurred after a while but she dared not divert her gaze.  Sansa could feel the restlessness in Jon’s sleep, he wasn’t fully sleeping and his body moved trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Sansa,” Jon mumbled.  “Come here.”

“I’m okay,” she said. 

“No you’re not.  You’re cold and tired.  Come here,” he repeated.  He lifted his cloak, a gesture intended to invite her to lay with him underneath it.  Sansa could have cried for how much she wanted to cling to him but she knew he was still in an altered state and didn’t want to cause friction.

“Go to sleep Jon,” she whispered.  “The sun will be up before you know it and we have to be moving again.”

Sansa lowered her head, resting it on her knees as she wrapped her arms around her legs.  Her cloak was warm but not enough to protect her from these types of elements.  Her fingers hurt from being exposed to the snapping air and she found herself breathing heavily just to have the tiniest bit of warmth from her exhaled breath.

She felt his arms before she even realized he had moved.  Funny how she could sense his heartbeat but this time she hadn’t caught his thoughts or his movement towards her.  Jon sat down behind her, pulling her between his legs, and pulling his cloak around both of them.  He buried his face in her neck, his beard tickling her skin.  Wrapping his arms around her belly, he squeezed her to him in a tight hug, one that made her gasp as tears welled up in her eyes.    She could feel love emanating from him, focused directly on her and it made her ache. 

“Jon,” Sansa said, her body seizing as she sobbed.  “I…”

“Ssshhh,” he whispered in her ear.  “I’m where I want to be.”

Jon could hear everything Sansa couldn’t say.  He knew she was just as tormented as he was in their situation.  Neither knew where they were going or what they were going to do, but he found solace in being with her.  His mind raged but at least for this moment, they were wrapped up in one another and there was peace.  He would die a thousand times and come back if it was for her. 

“Can you hear me?  The way I hear you?” Sansa asked.

“Yes,” Jon said.  “I can feel you too.”

“So you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” Jon squeezed her tighter to him.  “We are bound to each other by blood magic.”

“I know I shouldn’t have but I was desperate,” Sansa said still sniffling.  “You were gone and Melissandre told me how I could bring you back.  I had to try.  I just had to.”

“I know,” Jon said.  “Do you know why she sought you out?  Did she tell you?”

“No,” Sansa replied.  “I just got a raven saying you were in grave danger and I had to be at Castle Black before the next full moon.”

“She knew my men were going to kill me.  She told me as much when she first arrived at Castle Black,” he said.  “She allowed it to happen, I think she set it in motion.”

“How so?” Sansa asked curiously.

“She’s a witch.  She knew exactly who I was, who my parents were.  She knew I wasn’t a Stark,” he said.  “She never told me though.  She just let everything unfold and made sure I wasn’t aware.  You know she tried to get me to fuck her?”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure exactly but I think it had to do with the royal bloodlines,” he said.  “I think it is the same reason she sought you out.  She intended to bind us together, beyond what we already were.  Targaryan and Stark.  I imagine that is a pretty potent combination.”

“I knew the consequences Jon,” Sansa said intrepidly.  “She told me what would happen.  I made my choice willingly but you didn’t.  I was selfish, so selfish and I will never be able to beg you for your forgiveness.  I can only tell you how sorry I am for my weakness.”

“Sansa,” Jon began.

“Jon,” Sansa interrupted.  “Once we get to safety, I will release you.  You don’t have to stay with me.  I don’t know if we can break the blood tie between us but I swear I’ll stay out of your head and let you go on with your life.  You deserve that after everything you have been through.  I won’t stand in your way. I want you to be happy and live free of everything and everyone that has ever harmed you.  And that includes me.”

Jon touched Sansa’s cheek, letting his fingers slide to her chin where he gripped it and turned her face towards his.  He lightly brushed his lips across hers, increasing the pressure when she responded to him. Within seconds, they were both kissing each other desperately, their lips crushing against each other in an attempt to get closer than their physical bodies would allow.  Sansa’s hands reached out from under the cloak, wrapping in Jon’s hair and pulling him to her.  He was faintly aware of the pain but it was nothing but a dull ache, a pleasurable sensation that pulled at him every time she moved her fingers. 

Jon bared her to the ground, her back protected by her cloak and his cloak covering both of them as they fumbled with each other’s clothes.  Fighting with her layers of skirts, he finally managed to expose her legs to him and he settled himself between her thighs.  Sansa ran her hands under his tunic and up his abdomen to his chest.  He groaned, burying his face in between her neck and shoulder.  There was a current between them that made every touch intense.  His cock was achingly hard and he could feel the heat and imagine the wetness between her legs as he pushed himself against her center.  Her smallclothes and his breeches prevented actual contact but he could already feel his body preparing to release the energy that was building up.  It had been so long since he had touched a woman and it had never felt like this.  He felt frantic in his need for Sansa.  She responded to his movements fluidly, like they were designed just for one another.  Their kisses were fast but gentle.  Even though they had been riding all day, Sansa’s mouth still tasted sweet to him.  The smell of her skin made him want to taste every lovely inch of her.  She drew him in to her like a starved man.  He was enveloped in her body, driven by lust when he felt her languid body tense and images that threatened to bring bile into his throat flashed through his mind. 

“Sansa,” he choked.  “Gods….”  He could feel her trying to block him from seeing what was in her thoughts but it was too late.  The image of men using her for their satisfaction paraded through his head.  One in particular bothered him deeply.  A man holding her down as he thrust into her violently, slapping her and making her tell him how good he felt.  He could actually feel the pain she had felt as she was violated and it caused him to recoil.

“I’m sorry!” Sansa said, shame flushing her cheeks a bright pink color.  She sat up quickly.  “I’m so sorry!”

“Fuck!” Jon roared.  “Don’t fucking apologize!  Who the fuck was that?  Where is he?”

“It doesn’t matter Jon!” Sansa said, trying to calm Jon down.  “Please.  I’m sorry I’m ruined.”

“It does matter!” He yelled, his rage making him shake.  “I will fucking slaughter him for what he did to you!”  Jon could feel the rage like a black flame searing through his body.  This sick fuck had done such horrific things to this beautiful girl, letting her believe she was ruined for anyone but him.  The pathetic bastard couldn’t get a woman of Sansa’s status to love him by legitimate means so he had to cut her to little pieces, making it easier for him to consume her until there was very little left. 

Sansa sobbed, there was no way Jon was going to want her now that he knew what she was.  She could live knowing he didn’t love her the way she loved him but now he would hate her.  She could feel her heart break, the last piece of Sansa Stark that was still intact.  She had prayed for Jon during those painful nights she would lie in her bed, still aching from the assaults Peter Baelish subjected her to almost nightly.  She would dream of him riding up to the Vale, dressed in his Night Watch blacks and rescuing her from her tormentor.  Stealing off into the night, never to see his face hovering over her again.

“I would have,” Jon said, having calmed himself as he listened to her inner dialogue.  “I would have forsaken my vows for you.”

“I am ashamed,” Sansa said.  “You are so much more than I could have ever been.  I couldn’t even be kind to you when we were children.”

“I loved you,” Jon whispered.  “I always loved you….even when I didn’t like you.”

“I’m broken,” Sansa said.  “I don’t know how to be me anymore.”

“Then don’t be,” Jon said.  “Be whoever you want to be.  You don’t have to be the perfectly reared lady expected to do everything for everyone else and never take anything for yourself.  I want you to be selfish, and loud, and opinionated.”  He took her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers.  “You are so smart, and brave.  You went against everything and everyone to be here, to pull me back to you.  Fuck….I wish you could see yourself as I see you.”

“I can,” Sansa said almost grinning.  “You can only block so much from me.”

“Good!” Jon said kissing her again.  “Now I want you to believe it.  My lips can lie to you but my heart and mind can’t.”

“You were never a good liar Jon Snow,” Sansa replied. 

“I never intended to be,” Jon said smirking. 

“Jon,” Sansa said, her blue eyes shining even in the darkness that surrounded them.  “I want you to take me.  Please.  I’m not a maiden but….”

Jon put his finger to her lips to silence her.

“I don’t care,” he said honestly.  “But I won’t take you, I can’t.”

“Why?  I want you to!” she said, almost pleading with him.

“I want to Sweetling,” Jon said with a sigh.  “I want to bury myself within you and see what you look like when you lose yourself.”

“Then why do you deny me?” she asked.

“I am not going to be yet another man who takes more from you than I am willing to give,” he said.  Taking her hand, he pulled her to stand.  He kissed her lips gently before dropping to his knees and looking up to her.  “Sansa, when we take back Winterfell…I want us to march through the gates hand in hand.  I want to be your husband, have you carry my name.  When we take each other for the first time, it will be as husband and wife….if you’ll have me.”

Sansa couldn’t believe what Jon was saying.  Rather than be forced into a marriage or taken without her consent, this man was on his knees, asking for her hand.  She was going to be able to make her own decisions and he wanted her forever.  Even knowing what he knew about her, he wanted her as his wife.

“Jon Snow,” Sansa said looking down at him.  “I will marry you but I don’t want to wait to have each other.  You are already mine and I am already yours.  No law of man can change that.”

“I do not want to be like the other men who have abused you,” Jon argued.  “I want to be the one that makes love to you for the first time.”

“Then be that man,” Sansa said kneeling to be on the same level as Jon.  “Love me Jon Snow.”


	4. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honor is a fickle thing when it comes to those you love.

“Sansa,” Jon said quietly as they rode.  She had been asleep for a couple of hours, held tightly and safely in Jon’s arms.  “Sweetling, wake up.  We need to stop for a little bit.”

Sansa slowly woke, startled but within seconds realized where she was and more importantly, who she was with.  His warm, masculine smell filled her nose and she stretched her body as much as she could while still in the saddle.

“Why are we stopping?  Do you need to sleep?  I can hold you,” she asked smiling as she craned her necked back to look up at him.

“No,” Jon said.  He was keenly aware of his heart thumping in his chest, something he knew hadn’t been missed by the inquisitive redhead sitting between his legs.  “I have to piss and there are hot springs here.  I thought you might want a wash while I hunt something to put on a fire.”

Jon didn’t wait for Sansa to respond either way before stopping the horse and sliding to the ground.  He took her hand and carefully lowered her out of the saddle.  Her legs were a bit wobbly but she found her bearings easily enough.  They had journeyed farther South than Jon had ever been and the change in temperature was uncomfortable, especially in the thick clothing they were accustomed to wearing.  Sansa began to strip off her clothing, with no regard to propriety.  Jon quickly turned away, stammering a mumbled few words about going hunting and quickly moved away from the temptation that he desperately wanted to give into.  Sansa could sense his embarrassment and took advantage of their new found skill to hear what was going through his head.  She stifled her giggle as she walked bare-assed towards the warm water.

She laughed out loud when she heard Jon mutter, “Minx.”  He tried to say it under his breath but he might as well have yelled it for how easily Sansa heard it.  When she laughed, Jon sheepishly nodded his head towards her, giving a smile, knowing he was caught.  “I’ll be back!” he yelled, quickly putting space in between him and what he knew would be his downfall.

Sansa sunk into the water, gasping at the heat and how good it felt after being in the saddle for days on end.  She had hidden her discomfort as well as she could from Jon but if she was being honest, her backside was killing her.  The hot water alleviated at least some of the pain and she found herself boneless in the water.

Once she had cleaned up, she grabbed her discarded clothing and the lye soap she had packed and set about washing her clothing.  She didn’t even want to imagine how bad they smelled after they had been traveling on the back of a horse.  Jon wasn’t gone as long as she had anticipated and she could hear his inner dialogue well before she laid eyes on him.  Sansa had gotten into the habit of tuning into him when they were separated as a way of ensuring his safety and she knew he did the same with her. 

“Jon Snow,” she said without turning to look at him.  “Take off your clothes.”

“What??” Jon gasped, shocked.

“I’m going to clean your clothes but I can’t do it with you in them,” Sansa said, smiling back at him.  She could sense his shame at having looked at her, naked as her nameday. 

“You don’t have to wash my clothing, I will do it.”

“Jon,” Sansa said, irritated by his chivalrous attitude.  “You just hunted our supper.  I will wash your clothing.  Give them to me and bathe.”  She pointed towards the water, refusing to allow him to do everything.  “I am your wife, in practice if not in name yet.  I take care of you as you take care of me.”

“Sansa,” Jon said.  “You are a lady.”

“So?” Sansa said as she stared Jon down.

“Do you know how to wash clothing?  I mean,” Jon paused to find a delicate way of wording his question.  “Have you ever actually cleaned clothes?  Because I need these, they are my only clothing right now.”

“Jon Snow,” Sansa said.  The warning in her voice clear as a bell.

Jon didn’t care to challenge her any farther than he already had.  He remembered their childhood well enough to know that making her angry was a good way to get a verbal lashing, at minimum.  He begrudgingly began to take his doublet off, followed by his tunic.  He stopped after removing his boots, hesitant to hand his breeches to Sansa.

“Um,” Jon said.  “My lady, can you turn around for a moment.  I have to…”

“Oh for the Gods sake,” Sansa said.  “Fine, but you are being way too picky about this.”  She turned around, holding her hand out for him to place his discarded breeches in.  She noticed that his smallclothes were missing.  “And your smallclothes Jon.”

She could hear him take a deep breath and allowed a little giggle to pass her lips.  “Jon!” she yelled.

“Sansa….” He said frustrated.  He really didn’t want to give up his smallclothes with her being in such close proximity.  He dreaded what could happen.  Untying them, he dropped them to his ankles, handing them to her under duress.  “Here.  Now don’t look!”

“Jon,” she said.  “I have seen a man underneath his clothing.  You aren’t going to offend me.  I would actually like to look.”

“Absolutely not!” Jon barked, a little too harshly.  He began walking quickly to the water, relieved to sink into the springs and conceal his body’s natural reaction to seeing Sansa naked.  As he sat in the water, he could see her clothes sitting on the rocks, drying in the sun and it wasn’t long before his clothing joined them.  At least they were still in one piece and they appeared to still be usable.

Sansa waited for Jon to relax.  She had snooped into his head again, waiting for the right time to approach him as he sat in the hot springs.  Picking up the soap, she sunk into the water behind him, intentionally making sure he didn’t have time to protest or jump away from her.  Wrapping her legs around him from behind, she rested her head against his back.  She was surprised that he made no attempt to move away from her.  Instead, he groaned quietly and she could feel his tense muscles begin to soften as she ran her hands across his back.

“Jon,” she said quietly.  “What are we going to do?”

“We are going South,” he said.  “We will stay there until we can get word to your bannermen of where we are and what we intend.  I also intend to go see the Queen and figure out why I can walk out of flames.  If we are lucky, she will help us.”

“And after that?” Sansa asked.

“We are going to bring down the rage of the Starks on those Bolton fuckers,” Jon said.  He winced when he realized he had just spoken in such a way in Sansa’s presence.  She was a lady, regardless of who she was to him.

“What if we fail?” She asked the question but she knew she didn’t want to know the answer.

“We can’t,” he said rubbing his eyes.  “Winterfell is rightfully yours and I won’t stop until it is.  Our children will grow up within its walls.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> 

 

Sansa scrubbed nearly every inch of Jon’s body, only missing the spots he refused her access to.  She washed his hair several times, intent on getting all the dirt and grime out and letting his beautiful curls shine again.  She realized he hadn’t done more than rinse off since he had walked from the flames and he was long overdue.  Once he was clean, she leaned back pulling him with her to rest his head against her.  Jon fidgeted, trying to find a position that didn’t put his face next to her breast until she solved the problem, grasping his hair and pulling him to her chest.  They sat quietly, not needing to speak out loud.

Jon fought to block his thoughts from Sansa.  He found it was more difficult when they were this close physically, and in their intimate state, she was able to pick through his head as easily as she would a book.  He desperately wanted to avoid her knowing how the feel of her body against his back was torturing him.  He could feel every touch of their skin, so intensely that it felt like he was going through sensory overload.  Even worse than the feel of her breasts against the back of his shoulders was the silky feeling of her mound against his lower back.  Every time she moved, he could swear he felt each individual hair change position against his skin.  When he wasn’t paying attention to his thoughts, his imagination wandered into the things he wanted to do with her.  He could practically feel her under his fingers and taste her on his lips.

“Jon,” Sansa said, intentionally brushing his ear with her lips.  “Please let me touch you.”

“You are touching me,” Jon said. 

“You know what I mean,” Sansa said sharply.  “I don’t need to be coddled.  You need not protect my innocence.  And you know I can hear you, even when you are trying to put a wall up.”

“How can you hear me?  I can’t hear you when you block me!” Jon said, more curious than upset.  They were still trying to make sense of the bond they shared, neither of them understanding it fully.  The idea of what all it could entail actually scared him when he thought about it.  He was still reeling from the last discovery they had made, that they could feel the physical pain each other felt.

A few days prior, they had stopped to sleep.  Jon had slept particularly deeply, something he didn’t do often and hadn’t woken when Sansa had crawled out from underneath his arm to urinate.  He had been startled awake when he felt a stabbing pain radiate up his left leg.  When he sat up, he realized Sansa was missing and panicked when he heard her whimpering, almost on the verge of crying.  He searched for her desperately, following her noises until he found her behind a rock, holding her leg and saying curses he had never heard fall from her lips before.  When he looked closer, he could see that her left foot was bleeding, dangerously heavy.  He forgot about the pain in his leg as he rushed to take his tunic off and use it to stop the blood pouring from his beloved’s foot.  He thanked the Gods that he was able to stop the rush of blood and the wound turned out to be a relatively simple one that was able to be treated by bandage and keeping her foot out of a shoe for a couple of days.  But he still shook for nearly an hour afterwards, unable to control his body.  The fear of what he now knew scared him to his very core.  He wasn’t afraid of feeling Sansa’s pain but he felt his stomach drop when he thought of her having to suffer through the injuries he often ended up with, especially with what he was about to do to take back Winterfell.

Sansa brought him back to the moment they were in by running her hands through his hair, her fingers catching a tangle and sending a jolt of pain that caught his attention.  Her other hand brushed his cheek, he turned into her touch.  Holding her hand to his face with his hand and turning to kissing her palm. 

“Jon,” Sansa whispered.  She ran her finger along his bottom lip, gasping when he opened his mouth and sucked on her finger.  Pulling her hand back, she began to kiss his cheeks desperately, reveling in the feel of his beard on her lips.  She kissed as far as she could before Jon finally turned to let their lips meet. 

“Sansa,” he said against her lips.  “You break my heart.”

“I know,” she said.  “But in the best way.”

Jon turned around, gripping Sansa at her waist and pulling her into him.  She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips as he lifted her out of the water, carrying her to the grass and laying her down delicately.  He stood up, looking down at Sansa’s bare body, the view mesmerized him.  She was stunning.  Her breasts were perfectly round with pink peaks that were already stiff.  Her long torso dragged his eyes to her center, the red thatch of curls looked much darker in the moonlight.  The sun had set and her alabaster legs still appeared white in the low light and he could swear they went on forever.  He wasn’t sure he had ever seen a woman with such long, beautiful legs.  He felt shame course through him at the depravity that was going through his mind as he looked upon her body.

“Jon,” Sansa said.  “Quit putting too much thought into this.  Shame has no place between us.  I am yours and you are mine.  Please, I need you.”

“Sansa….I can’t do this.  I can’t take you without being your husband.  You deserve more than that.  You deserve everything.” He said, cursing his physical reaction to her.  

“Do you think you will ever love me the way I love you?” Sansa asked.

“What do you mean by that?” Jon responded.  “You can feel my emotions.  You know how I feel.”

“No Jon, I don’t.  I can feel your reactions to me but I can’t differentiate between it being an attraction to my physical appearance or if you have deeper feelings toward me.  I don’t understand much more than you do about how we work.” Sansa said. 

Jon dropped to his knees by her feet.  He lifted her foot, lightly kissing the curve of her instep and moved steadily up her leg until he was pressing his lips against her hip bone, eliciting sharp gasps from Sansa.  She rolled her hips against his kisses, her skin feeling tingly.  He brushed across her belly, lathering the space between her breasts with his tongue before finally kissing her mouth so softly that she felt like she was going to cry.  Her body ached in need, she was so aroused that it felt like every muscle in her body was tensed and her hands shook as she caressed his back with her fingers.  She held him to her tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him where she wanted him.  His cock brushed against her and he groaned loudly.

Sansa giggled at Jon’s reaction, throwing her head back and exposing her long neck to his lips.  He gripped the back of her neck, pulling it firmly against his mouth as he licked and sucked at her throat.  He rubbed himself against her center, careful not to penetrate her.

“Gods Sansa,” he said, resting his forehead against her shoulder.  “You are so fucking wet.  I could move just a touch to the right and slide into you.  I can’t imagine anything would feel better than being inside of you.”

Sansa felt her stomach lurch at his words.  She had surpassed being aroused and was bordering on desperation.  “Jon…I can’t, I….”

“You can and you will,” Jon looked directly in her eyes, he could feel an electrical pulse pulling at him.  He could sense Sansa’s need and a heavy feeling took his chest in its grip.  “I’m going to fix this sweet girl,” he whispered.  Without breaking his gaze, he let his hand skim down her body to her center.

“Jon!” Sansa practically screamed.  She moved her hips to increase the contact between her cunt and his hand but Jon lightened his touch, a tease that made her feel a surge of anger.  She needed him, she needed this and his game was making her ache even more.  It was verging on painful.

“Sansa,” Jon mumbled.  He pressed his fingers against her nub, slowly rubbing circles as he watched her body visibly relax.  He was humbled by the feeling of peace that overcame him, an emotion he knew was coming from Sansa.  Her reaction to his touch calmed his body and he found he could focus much easier on the process of loving Sansa rather than the outcome.  He switched the position of his hand against Sansa, using his thumb to continue rubbing her nub and using his two middle fingers to push inside of her.  Her back arched, pushing her chest into his and he could feel how truly wet she was.  Taking his fingers out of her, he brought them to him lips, sucking them into his mouth and tasting her for the first time.

“You are so beautiful sweetling,” Jon said, a smile playing on his lips from the shocked look on Sansa’s face.  “You taste so good.”

“Please stop, I can’t take any more!” Sansa said squirming against him.  “I can’t stand this.”

“Tell me,” Jon said.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what you want,” he replied in a calm, low voice.  If he was going to go against his honor, he was going to do it for all the right reasons.  He would do it for her, and only her.  But she was going to have to ask it of him.  He needed her as much as she need him.

“Please Jon,” Sansa said, her words coming out softly as she gripped his arms, her nails were piercing his skin.  “Take me…right now!  I need to feel you.”  She reached down, wrapping her fingers around his cock and guiding him to her. 

Jon wished he was a better man.  He prayed to the Gods for the strength to pull away from her and maintain his vow to her but he couldn’t.  He may have been able to have done it in his previous life but he was no longer Jon Snow.  He was Sansa’s lover and the thought of that made him push his hips towards her just enough to feel her warm heat surround the head of his cock.  He stopped, struggling to give her the chance to change her mind but they were both too far gone.  He felt her hands grip his backside as she pulled him farther into her body.  He bit her shoulder once they were hip to hip, a distraction to avoid finishing just as they had joined.  Sansa’s nails dug even deeper into his arms and he could feel blood trickling towards his elbow but he didn’t have the ability to care.  He was in the most precious place in the world and for the first time in weeks, he felt whole again.

Jon thrust into Sansa like a mad man.  Neither could form words and the night air was filled with nothing but the sound of their bodies meeting and the gasps Sansa made every time he plunged into her to his length, his pelvis making contact with her nub.  Within a few moments, Sansa was seizing underneath him, her cunt pulling at him and contracting around his cock.  He flipped them over, pushing Sansa up so he could watch her as she rode him.  She rolling her hips in his tight grip, pushing down hard against him every time she came down.  He sat up, pulling her to him so their bodies seemed to be melded together.  Jon was so lost in his ecstasy that he didn’t stop until she found her release again, pulsing around him and bringing him to his as they held each other so tightly that he felt like he was going to be sick after his body exploded, releasing his seed inside of Sansa.  It wasn’t until they had come down and started to breathe normally again, his cock still inside of her that he realized what he had done.  He had meant to pull away from her before he released his seed but now the deed was done and there was no going back.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, his heart full of shame.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jon, I wanted you to make love to me.”

“No, I mean reaching my peak while I was still inside of you.  That shouldn’t have happened.  I should have kept control.”

“It was beautiful,” Sansa said playing with his beard.  “I wanted you to release inside of my body.”

“Sansa,” he said.  “I may have just made you with child.  You would be permanently marked.”

“Jon Snow,” Sansa said, a hint of anger in her voice.  “I am permanently marked.  By you.  As it should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are mistakes. I was trying to finish this at the end of a long night shift.


	5. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa arrive in Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter. Dialogue heavy between Jon and Daenerys. The idea is to establish the onset of their relationship and the "rules" Jon and Sansa have to play by in order to get what they need. I have already written a good chunk of the next chapter but I'm working through editing and content.

 

Jon and Sansa had been in Kings Landing for two weeks.  The Queen, Daenerys Targaryen was already aware of their journey and had greeted them as they reached the gates.  Sansa had refused to engage the Queen in farther than a few polite courtesies and a curtsy or two.  She had kept to her apartment, only coming out when her company was requested.  Jon could sense her discomfort being back in a place that had been her prison during her time with Joffrey and the ensuing events that followed.  With the task of getting the Queen to assist them in their quest to take back the North, Jon spent a considerable amount of time with the girl who was about the same age as himself yet was his Aunt.

“I was made aware of who you are,” the silver-haired Queen said, looking directly into the eyes of the man standing in front of her.  “Words travel on the wind and stories beg to be told.  You can’t be all that surprised that yours would spread far and wide could you?”

“I didn’t think it would be of much interest, especially to you of all people.”  Jon said.

“It isn’t every day that a man walks from the flames,” she said.  “Especially after dying.”

“Aye my Queen,” Jon said.  “I don’t know how or why it happened either, just that it did.”

“How were you made aware of your parentage?” Daenerys asked, raising her eyebrow and cocking her head.

“Oddly,” Jon responded. 

“Who told you?”

“Nobody specifically told me,” Jon said.  “I just seemed to know it.  It happened when I was being brought back.”

“You are correct,” Daenerys said.  “We are given the power of foresight and knowledge as we lie amongst the flames.  It is that power that gave rise to the Targaryen dynasty.”

“I am a Snow,” Jon said cautiously. 

“You are a Targaryen by blood but you can be by marriage also,” she said. 

The look of shock on Jon’s face was obvious.  “My apologies, but I don’t understand.”

“Jon,” the Queen said.  “We marry within our bloodlines.  As the last two Targaryens, it stands to sense that we would be wed.  I would also request that you call me Dany when we are in private.”

“I’m sorry Dany,” the name seemed foreign to his lips but he would do as his Queen requested.  “But I think you mistake me.  I have already given my heart.”

“To the Stark girl?” Dany asked.  “You aren’t officially betrothed.  It can be broken.”

“No,” Jon began.  “She wasn’t given to me nor I to her.  We took each other.”

“Marriages aren’t love matches amongst Kings and Queens Jon,” Dany said.  “You can keep the Stark as your companion just as I would have mine.”

“I am to marry Sansa,” Jon said.  He fought to keep his tone even as his distaste for Sansa being referred to as his companion settled in the back of his throat.  “There is no other option.”

“There is an option,” Dany said.  “I have laid out its terms for you and you should take me up on the offer.  You would be King.”

“I have no desire to be King,” Jon said.  “I want to take back Winterfell, restore Sansa to her rightful place, and sit beside her as she rules the North.”

“We don’t always get what we want Jon,” Dany said with a sigh. “You will need to let Sansa know what will be as soon as possible.  With your arrival in Kings Landing, the people are expecting a royal marriage.  We can’t afford to put it off.”

“Dany,” Jon paused, dreading the Queen’s reaction.  “I cannot marry you.  I am pledged to Sansa, emotionally, mentally, and……physically.”

“As I said, I don’t care if you fuck other women.  That isn’t the point.  This isn’t a romantic proposal between us nephew.  It is an arrangement that suits the needs of the Kingdom.”

“My Queen,” Jon said, taking a second to form his thoughts.  “It is of the utmost importance that Sansa and I are married quickly.  We can give the people a royal wedding but it will not be one between you and I.  My beloved is Sansa Stark.  She is the second most powerful woman in the World behind you.  She is more than an acceptable match for a family in our position.  In honesty, I imagine the marriage of a Targaryen outside the bloodline would be an attractive option.  Historically, our ancestors have made questionable choices and the intermarriages have been to blame.”

“But you would not be a ruling Targaryen in that scenario,” Dany said.

“I’d rather be Sansa’s husband,” Jon said.

“All these families fighting for the throne and you are the first person I have ever met that has no interest in it,” Daenerys fixed him with an intent look.  “Why is that?  Is Lady Stark really that important?”

“Lady Sansa is my priority,” Jon said.  “As I stated, I need to marry her soon.”

“Why the rush?” Dany asked.  “We can’t even put an army together to march on Winterfell for several moons.”

“I….” Jon decided the time for shame was well past.  “I made a mistake.  In a moment of weakness, I did something I shouldn’t have.  Lady Sansa is with child and I would like to wed her before her condition becomes known and my actions bring harm to her.”

“It seems to me that the mistake was on both of your parts.  Sansa made the choice to give her body to you,” Dany said.  “Why would you feel obligated to take responsibility?  Nobody is going to dare say a whisper of words about you, a Targaryen Prince?  You could have a thousand bastards and nobody would care.”

“I don’t care what anyone says about me,” Jon said heatedly.  “If they lower themselves to speak against Sansa, I will slaughter the lot of them.  Blood will pour in the streets.”

“Clearly you think very highly of Lady Sansa,” Dany said.  “Of course, most men do when they are allowed to worship at the altar between a woman’s legs.”

Jon stiffened, fighting back the urge to curse the very ground his Aunt walked on for saying something so foul about Sansa.  “I would remind you that Sansa is my lady and I will not tolerate anyone speaking against her.”

Dany appreciated the challenge Jon presented to her.  There were very few people in Westeros that were willing to speak in such a way to the Mother of Dragons.

“I will speak as I choose,” Dany said with a soft smile.  “No man will tell me what I am allowed to think, say, or do.  However, as you are my nephew and a good man, I will forgive this transgression.”  Jon didn’t speak, opting to remain silent until the Queen spoke up again.  “I am also willing to allow you to marry Lady Sansa under two conditions.”

“Those are?” Jon questioned.

“We will publicly state that you and Lady Sansa have already married,” Dany said.  “Your ceremony here will be for the benefit of our people.  I will not have the legitimacy of a Targaryen heir questioned.  And second, you will continue to have children, regardless of the outcome of the Winterfell problem until the Targaryen bloodline is well established.”

“How many children are we talking about?  Sansa is not a breeding animal,” Jon said.

“Is it your intent to not have any more children?”

“We haven’t decided what we are going to do beyond what we have at the moment,” Jon responded.  “I would not be presumptuous enough to make decisions about her body.  We will have as many children as she wishes.”

“You’re a very interesting man Jon Snow,” Dany said.  “Sansa is a lucky woman to have the love of a man who values her body and heart.”

“I love her,” is all Jon could say.


	6. We can be us now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa become one. Well...one and a half really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it takes me so long to update. Some of these more intricate stories require me to spend more time putting it together. As usual, if I made a faux pas....I shall accept my punishment in the comments. =D

Jon hadn’t said anything in hours, he just sat in the solar of Sansa’s apartments silently going over the stacks of paper in his lap.  He was painfully aware of Sansa’s presence as she hadn’t taken her eyes off of him for the better part of the past hour.

“Jon,” Sansa said quietly.  “I know you aren’t actually reading or doing any work.”

Jon looked up at her, startled by how close she had managed to get to him without him noticing.

“You’re right,” Jon said.  He reached towards Sansa, taking her waist with his hand and pulling her to him until she was standing between his legs looking down at him.  She carded her fingers through his curls, a motion that gave Jon goosebumps as he leaned into her touch.  “I can’t focus on anything right now.”

“Is it because of the Queen?” Sansa asked.  “Your meeting with her?”

“Yes,” Jon said.  “I told her what we are to each other.  I mean, at least the simple version of it.”

“What do you mean Jon?” Sansa was alarmed.  She didn’t like the idea of anyone outside of themselves knowing the connection they had to one another and the power that it held.  Keeping their bond secret gave them the upper hand in a world that had people who cut each other’s throats just to watch the blood pour.  “What did you tell her?”

“Don’t worry,” Jon said quickly.  He could feel her heartrate increase and the panicky itch she had going through her body.  “I told her we were lovers and I told her about this.”  Jon placed his hand on Sansa’s lower belly, caressing the tiny bump with his fingers.

Sansa placed her hand protectively over Jon’s, “And what did she say?”

“There isn’t much she can say,” Jon responded.  “There is no changing what is and what will be.  She had intended for her and I to marry but she seemed reasonable when I told her about our child.”

“So I am to be a royal mistress?”

Jon nearly choked.  “No!” he said.  “We are going to marry.  You are going to be my wife in the eyes of the Gods!”

“We don’t have to marry Jon,” Sansa absent-mindedly played with his hair as she stared off into the distance.  “We are already happy.”

“I won’t be when our babe is born,” he said.  “I will not allow you to birth my bastards Sansa.  You are a lady and more importantly, you are my lady.  But Dany had a couple of rules before she was willing to approve our marriage.”

“What kind of rules?”

“The kind that turns you into a breeding mare,” Jon said closing his tired eyes.  “At least as far as I’m concerned.”

“What?” Sansa asked, startled.

“Dany requires that we continue having children once we take Winterfell,” Jon said.  He was guarded with his words, already feeling like he was treating his love like an incubator.  “She wants our children to secure the Targaryan bloodline.”

“That seems fair though, don’t you think?” She asked.  “She isn’t asking us to hand the children over is she?”

“No,” Jon said.  “Not that I am aware of anyhow.  Just that we have to provide the Throne with heirs.”

“We intended to do that anyhow,” Sansa said smiling. 

“Did we now?” Jon looked up at her with a smile.  “I didn’t realize we had.  We didn’t even intend this little one.”

“Well, we certainly didn’t prevent it either so….”

“We are to be married in a fortnight.  As soon as the wedding can be put together.  But another part of Dany’s demands was that we claim we have already married and this wedding is for the people.” Jon held his breath.

“And the reason for this is?” Sansa was truly lost.  Jon had gotten good at letting his mind go silent, especially when he could feel her prodding at him to get information.

“So there is no questioning our child’s legitimacy,” Jon said.  “You being Sansa Stark is a benefit but she can’t risk there being any discussion concerning the heir to the Throne.”

“Jon,” Sansa said.  “You are taking all of this too seriously.  That is another term that is more than fair.  Whichever way it happens, we are to be married in the eyes of the Gods and man.  I think that is a perfectly acceptable demand.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with the Queen making decisions about our lives,” Jon said.  “Or at least thinking that she is making the decisions.  Today it is our wedding and tomorrow it will be our marriage and children.  I don’t like it, at all.”

“I don’t care what we have to do as long as we take our child back to Winterfell,” Sansa said quietly, running her hand over her belly. 

Jon reached for the bowl they kept behind the curtain, he could sense that Sansa was feeling ill.  Never in his life had he ever empathized with another human being as much as he had with his love since she had fallen pregnant.  He thought feeling her cut foot was bad but it was nothing compared to this.  Jon had spent weeks feeling on the verge of being sick himself before he figured out he was picking up Sansa’s morning sickness.  He had become so attuned to her body, he could feel when she needed to urinate, something she did constantly.  He wouldn’t complain though, he only had himself to blame for his lack of control regardless of what Sansa claimed. 

 

There was very little time to plan the wedding the Queen had in mind.  Jon and Sansa had allowed her to do as she wished, preferring to stay as far out of everything as possible.  Initially, Sansa had attempted to do the majority of the planning but Jon demanded she pull back.  He could feel her exhaustion and in her condition, it alarmed him.  Every day seemed to be worse than the day before and by the time he had enough, she was already struggling to get out of their bed in the morning. 

They spent the night before their wedding sitting quietly in the solar.  Sansa was working on finishing her bridal cloak before they retired for the evening, the last few details being etched with thread into the fine silk.  Jon sat a few feet from her, his eyes never leaving her.  Her red hair was loose down her back, creating a curtain that nearly blocked her face as she stared down at her stitching.  She wore nothing but her night gown and a fur he had insisted on wrapping around her shoulders.  It was warm in the South but he still preferred to keep her covered as much as possible, especially as the sun set and the cooler air blew into their chambers from open windows.

_Gods she’s beautiful._

Sansa looked at Jon and smiled.  He could feel his heart shudder at the gesture and just grinned back at her.  He figured eventually he would remember that she could hear what he is thinking though he wasn’t sure it would stop him from having certain thoughts about the woman he shared his life with.  Sansa finished her last stitch, cut the thread and folded up the cloak.  Yawning, she stretched her body and sunk back into the chair.

Jon stood, reaching his hand to help her up and surprised her by pulling her into his body and kissing her when she took his hand.  He ducked down, sliding his arms under her legs and picked her up to carry her to bed.  Laying her on the bed, he covered her up and began to walk towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Sansa asked, suddenly wide awake.

“I’m going to sleep in my chambers tonight,” Jon said.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Jon…”  He could sense the fear in her body and it made him pause.  “Please don’t leave me alone here.  I can’t stand it.”

He was a fool to have forgotten the trauma she had suffered in this very keep.  His idea to be separate the night before they were wed was intended as an homage to tradition but there was nothing traditional about their lives.  This place, while now the residence of a kinder Queen, still held the ghosts of Sansa’s torture.  Jon immediately began unfastening his doublet and kicked off his boots.  When he was down to nothing but his breeches and tunic, he climbed into the bed next to Sansa and pulled her close to him.

“Nobody will ever harm a hair on your head again sweetling,” Jon said.  “I swear it by the old Gods and the New.  You will be safe with me.”

Sansa yawned again, nuzzling her face into his neck, her head nestled firmly under his chin.  She pushed her leg between his thighs, entwining them together.

“Sleep my love.  Tomorrow is a big day,” Jon said.  He knew she was already slipping into unconsciousness.  He had developed a habit of staying awake after she drifted off because he could see into her mind the easiest when she was asleep.  During her waking hours, he could hear her but rarely did he see anything.  When she dreamt, he could see the pictures in his mind and he was always mesmerized by the beautiful colors and the emotions he could pick up from her.  Sometimes, he would fall asleep and have the same dreams.

The sun glared in Jon’s eyes, waking him from a dream that had left him with a warm and comfortable feeling in his body.  The room however was not comfortable, the heat making a sheen of sweat across his skin.  Sansa was still tucked underneath him, her tiny body nearly enveloped by his.  Apparently she was also overly warm because at some point during the night, she had stripped her clothing off and was lying half on her belly, using her propped leg to keep her from rolling all the way over.  The sheet lay at her hip, exposing the top part of her body and from his viewpoint, he could see the soft curve of her breast and even the little contour of her growing belly.  He spread his hand over her stomach, a feeling of possessiveness and the need to protect his family moving through his body.  Getting out of bed, as lightly as possible to avoid waking Sansa, he quietly got dressed and sat down in a chair to wait for her to wake up.  He didn’t want her to be scared when she awoke because he wasn’t there. 

Sansa began to gradually stir.  It was good timing because he would have to wake her up before too long.  They were due in the sept by mid-morning and they still had to bathe and be prepared for the ceremony.

“Sweetling,” Jon said quietly.  “You have to get up.  The ladies will be here in a few minutes to help you get ready.”

Sansa opened her eyes and looked at Jon.  A sweet smile played on her lips before she playfully pulled the furs over her head, leaving nothing but a few streaks of red hair poking out.  Jon stood up and walked to the bed.  He slapped the area of the furs he knew had her pert little ass underneath it, causing Sansa to yelp.

“I’ll see you in a little while,” Jon said. 

“We’ll see you there!” Sansa said with a giggle from under the covers.

Jon smiled a huge smile as he walked into the corridor.  He didn’t miss her use of the word “we’ll” and while most people wouldn’t find their babe being at their wedding tasteful, Jon felt the ceremony was nothing more than telling other people what he and Sansa were to each other.  They already knew what they were between the two of them.

A few hours later, Jon was standing in the sept, in front of an audience of people he had never seen before in his life.  The only one he recognized was his Aunt and they had spent the better part of the morning passing knowing looks back and forth with one another.  They may not have known each other long but they had found common ground and their relationship seemed to be improving drastically from when he and Sansa had arrived in King’s Landing.  Even with all the commotion going on around him, he was keenly aware of Sansa and forced his surroundings to become white noise as he focused on her.  He could hear her inner dialogue as she waited to walk into the sept.  She wasn’t nervous about their marriage but rather the opinions of the people waiting to see the ceremony.  Her dress had been tailored to conceal her growing body but making the bump invisible wasn’t possible.

_Stop it.  You have no reason to worry.  Everyone here already believes us married._

He almost laughed when he felt the jolt that went through her as his words rang in her head.

_Yeah, we can do this remember?_

Within seconds he could hear her in his mind.

_If you don’t stop, I’m going to kick you when I get there.  I’ll do it so hard that our grandchildren will feel it!_

Jon couldn’t hide his smirk so he bent his neck to face the ground, looking at the ridiculous shoes he was made to wear for the wedding.  They were black with red lacing and if he wasn’t mistaken, they looked suspiciously like women’s shoes.  Complete with a heel that made his feet ache.  He already had plans to throw these in the fire once they were back in their chambers.  As he contemplated all the ways he could discard the silly shoes and even frillier clothing he was wrapped up in, he heard the audience gasp in unison.  Looking up, he saw the source of the reaction.  Walking down the aisle was Sansa, her hair plaited into a hairstyle that accentuated her long neck, her dress made of white silk underneath the cloak she had finished stitching the night before.  Her steps were elegant and sweeping, making her seem to float to his side.  It struck him that as radiant as she looked today, it was nothing on how beautiful she was when they were alone together.  The white clothing caused her skin to look pale which made her red hair even more shocking.  Having seen her flush with pleasure, her cheeks and chest pink, he knew which form of Sansa he preferred.

The ceremony passed quickly, both he and Sansa feeling like they were in a daze.  By the time they had excused themselves from the wedding feast, both were exhausted and ready to take refuge in each other, out of the prying eyes of the people of King’s Landing.  There was a tense moment when the bedding ceremony was called for, Sansa’s eyes widening in panic and Jon coming out of his seat to shield his wife from being touched. 

Once they were safely behind the barred door of their chambers, both took a moment to sit down and think about the day.

Jon was inclined to put Sansa to bed but he could sense that wasn’t what she was thinking.  Her thoughts were even more vibrant than the smile on her face, her mind drew him in mentally as his body moved towards her physically.  He began untying the laces of her dress, letting it fall to the ground.  He was thankful they had forgone the corset because of Sansa’s delicate condition, allowing him to render her down to her skin quickly.  Standing behind her, he delicately kissed her neck and shoulders, flicking his tongue every few inches to truly taste her.  He began to remove the pins from her hair, caressing each lock as it fell down her back.  Once he had gotten all the braids and pins out of her hair, he lightly shook her hair and massaged her scalp with his fingertips.  He could only imagine how uncomfortable having her hair pinned that tightly had to be.  Sansa’s body relaxed for the first time since she had stepped foot in the sept, melting into Jon’s chest.

“It’s over,” Jon said in her ear.  “We can just be us now.”

“Thank the Gods!” Sansa said.

Jon guided his wife to the bed, urging her to lay down while he went to find an extra quilt to cover her.  The night had turned off cold, the wind beating against the castle and forcing it’s bite through the spaces around the windows.  The fire was roaring but the warmth didn’t extend to the bed.  Tossing the extra bedding on the bottom of the mattress, he let his eyes roam over his wife’s body.

_My wife.  My world.  The person I will live by and be willing to die again for._

“Don’t be so dramatic Jon,” Sansa said.  She attempted to sound serious but the little upturn of her lip told him she was playing.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “I don’t get to have private thoughts like everyone else. I’ll try to stick the usual teats and backside thoughts of most men.”

Sansa didn’t respond, she just gave him a look.  He almost laughed, this was the first _wife_ glare of many he was sure he would be getting over the course of their life together.  For the first time since he came back, he truly understood why.  Most men claimed they would walk through fire for their woman.  He had come back from oblivion by walking through fire and he’d do it against a million times if Sansa was on the other side of it.

 Though for the moment, he wanted to make love to his wife for the first time.


	7. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans change.
> 
> Sorry...I'm shite at writing summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little drabble. Just covering the departure. Already wrote a good chunk of the next chapter but I need to go through it before I finish it and post it.

“It isn’t up for discussion Sansa,” Jon said testily.  “You are staying here.”

“That was never the plan Jon and you know it!” Sansa said.  “You don’t get to make my choices!”

“No it wasn’t part of the plan but the Gods changed that when you got pregnant,” Jon responded.  “I can’t let you go with us.  There’s more at stake now.”

Sansa knew she was fighting a losing battle.  There was no way Jon was going to give in and let her go with him and their men to Winterfell.  She could kick herself for getting pregnant, she should have known Jon wouldn’t take a chance of her being hurt in her condition.  Even as angry as she was about it, she knew he was right.  She had been trying to convince him since the plans were laid out a few days after their wedding to let her ride with him but he had refused to hear her pleas.  He hadn’t even allowed his thoughts to wander to the possibility of her going. 

“So what am I supposed to do here while you march off?” she asked.

“Be my wife,” he said.  “Grow and protect our babe.  Do what women do.”

“What women do?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.  “You are an unconventional lady, I’ll give you that but you are with child.  You have a responsibility to me and our family.”

“So I’m just supposed to focus on making sure you get your heir?”  Sansa turned her chin up defiantly. 

“Stop it,” he said sharply.  “This has nothing to do with securing an heir.  I want to protect our child and I need you to help me.”

“I don’t want to be here without you,” Sansa admitted.  “I hate this place.”

Jon softened his stance, walking towards her to take her hands in his.  Raising them to his lips, he kissed her fingers, holding her fists to his mouth for a few seconds longer as he looked her in the eyes.

“Sweetling,” he said.  “I know this isn’t the best situation.  We are going to win against Bolton and I’m going to take you and our little one home.  I swear it on my honor as your husband.  Please just let me do what I need to so our family is safe.”

“Is there anything else I can do other than staying put here?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jon said.  “I need you to stop worrying about me.  I can’t turn you off.  I need to be able to focus on this without feeling and hearing you in this state.  And I don’t want you sneaking into my mind either.  I don’t want you to see what is going to happen.  Please promise me you’ll wait for me to tune into you.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Sansa said.  “But I swear I’ll try.”

They hadn’t been this far apart since their connection had been forged.  They didn’t even know if it still worked when they were hundreds of miles apart.  They had no choice but to find out as they went.  The thought was discomforting at best.  But in the meantime, they only had a few days before Jon and his patchwork army began to march towards Winterfell.  Their time together was a finite resource she didn’t intend to waste.

The morning Jon departed for the North came too soon.  They had spent the night before making love until they were too sore to continue, Sansa having been exhausted to the point of falling asleep while Jon moved inside of her.  He had cradled her in his arms and held her until the sun came up, dreading the moment he would have to ride away from her.

Their observable goodbye took place in the courtyard of the Red Keep.  Sansa buried her face in her husband’s chest to hide her tears, embarrassed to look weak in front of the gathered crowd.  He whispered a few words in her ear before kissing her lips and mounting his horse.  With the sun shining behind him and sending its rays around his body, he looked magnificent.  The exact image of a Prince riding into battle.  He wore the Targaryan black and red but his tunic had been stitched with wolves, a nod to who Jon really belonged to.  As they left the yard, Sansa didn’t wait to see him disappear over the horizon as most wives did.  She raised her chin, turned around, and walked back to their chambers.  Numb.


	8. What we have come here to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and his men march on Winterfell. Jon finally gets to face down Ramsay but is taken by surprise in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at writing battle scenes. I didn't even try to. This story is based more on the story of Jon and Sansa than the violence in the world of Westeros. If I disappointed, I apologize but for what it is worth, I'm actually working through how to write a battle scene.

The ride to Winterfell took a fortnight.  The change in the weather from the heat in the South to the bitter, biting cold in the North had tested the limits of the men who were not accustomed to the lower temperatures.  Many of them had never been out of King’s Landing which made the trek difficult and tiresome.  By the time they reached the outskirts of Winterfell, the army Jon and Sansa had been able to put together was faltering and in Jon’s opinion, not prepared to take on the challenge of taking back Winterfell.  It was going to be another delay, one that hopefully wouldn’t end the campaign before achieving what they had traveled so far to do.

Having intimate knowledge of Winterfell was a benefit.  Not only was Jon able to secure a hidden area to set up their camp, he had also spent the downtime during their travels drawing an extensive map of Winterfell and its outlying areas.  It was this map that he and Tormund were analyzing in their tent while the rest of the men slept.

“We need to collect more information,” Jon said.  “We can go off this map but it tells us the physical layout of Winterfell.  We have no idea where Bolton has his sentries set up or what type of weaponry they are using.  And we have to consider that he may have made alterations to the castle.”

“How do you suppose we get this information?” The red haired wilding asked.  “Start asking around and hope nobody gives us up?”

“Obviously not,” Jon responded.  “The men from the South need rest but the Northern men are ready and able to carry out the attack.  Rather than go in blind, I think we should use our Northman and Wildlings to find out what we need to know.”

“It could lose us the element of surprise,” Tormund said, rubbing his eyes. 

“It is only a matter of time before they know we are here anyhow,” Jon said.  “We have the liberty of a few days but an army this large is going to be noticed.  If the men haven’t already started sneaking into Moles Town I’d be shocked.”

 

Within the next two days, Jon had all the information he needed.  The map was complete with notations for security details and even a few walls and towers that had been added to Winterfell during the Bolton’s habitation of the castle.  He made a mental note to have them torn down before his wife came home.

Sansa crossing his mind had caused an ache in his chest.  He had intentionally pushed her to the back of his thoughts, hoping it would help him focus on what he had to do.  He also needed to keep her at bay to avoid her nosing into his head.  He wasn’t sure if it worked or if Sansa had kept her promise to stay out of his thoughts but he hadn’t felt her energy since a few days out from King’s Landing.  He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  At this point, it was just a thing.  Letting her creep back into his mind made the sting of missing her more prevalent and he was going to need to refocus himself if he was going to survive the next few days.  But he would deal with that in the morning.  For the time being, he stared at the ceiling of his tent, the freezing air shaking the canvas and tried to go to Sansa.

He felt a surge go through his body when their minds connected.  It was so powerful that he had to catch his breath and he could see Sansa sit up in bed, startled and looking around the room desperately.

_It’s me.  Don’t be scared._

Sansa took a deep breath and her body relaxed.  Jon felt relief spread through him.  He also felt sick to his stomach for some reason.

_Can you hear me like I’m speaking or just see images?_

He couldn’t see Sansa anymore.  He wondered why but it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened.  He had warged into Ghost.  When he was seeing Sansa, he was looking through his wolf’s eyes.  Apparently he was still tied to Sansa, even when he was warging.  That could be handy.

_I can hear you._

Jon smiled.

_I don’t have long.  I just needed to talk to you.  Hear you._

_How did you do this?  Does it go both ways?_

_I don’t know, I just thought about you and pictured us connecting.  It happened quickly._

_At least we know we can do that.  What is happening?_

_Nothing yet.  And when it does, I’ll let you know the outcome.  I don’t want you worrying about us.  You worry about our babe._

_I only have a couple of moons left.  You aren’t going to be here._

_Sweetling, I will be there.  I pray in person but I will be there regardless.  Please rest.  I will fight harder knowing you are safe and what I am going home to._

_I love you Jon._

_I love you too sweetling.  I miss you._

Jon was yanked away from Sansa by Tormund barreling into the tent.

“Good,” he bellowed.  “You’re awake.  Got some news.”

Jon sat up and began to put his boots on.  “Are you going to tell me?”

“Aye,” Tormund said.  “I’m gonna tell ya!  We’ve been spotted.  The Bolton bastard knows we’re here and has sent a letter.”

“A letter?” Jon raised an eyebrow.  He couldn’t imagine what the fucker had to say to him.

Tormund handed the parchment to Jon, the seal made him shiver.  Who the fuck brags about flaying people?

**Jon Snow**

**You may be a Targaryan by blood but you are a bastard Snow.  You fuck your sister while pretending she is your wife.**

**You will not take Winterfell.  It is mine now and for all generations to come.**

**I will not kill you.  I will hold you in my dungeon, ride to King’s Landing and return with the slaughtered bodies of your sister and your incestuous abomination of a child.  I will show neither you or your kin any mercy.**

**The North is mine.  Leave.**

**Ramsay Bolton**

Raged seethed through Jon.  He didn’t even have it in him to fear Bolton, cowardice had no place next to the anger that had seized him.  His army would take down Bolton’s men but Jon himself would walk through the halls of Winterfell again to kill Ramsay Snow.  He would make sure the last face the bastard saw was his, Sansa Stark’s husband.

Looking up from the paper, Jon and Tormund shared a knowing look.

“I’ll prepare the men to march at daybreak,” Tormund said.  If Jon wasn’t mistaken, there was almost a glint of joy in his eye.

“Yes,” Jon said.  “Ramsay won’t be expecting immediate retaliation.  We might still have the upper hand.  I want you to make sure the men know that I will personally handle Ramsay Snow.  They can capture him but they are not to kill him.”

Tormund just nodded and left the tent.

 

When the sun came up over the horizon, Jon had already been awake for a couple of hours.  Mentally preparing himself, he sat on his furs in nothing but his smallclothes.  The cold should have been uncomfortable but he felt nothing but heat radiating from his skin.  He could feel the anticipation of the day pulsing through his body with every beat of his heart.  Having spent some of his quiet time praying to the Gods, old and new, for their victory….now as the moment was upon him, all he could pray for was Sansa.  He prayed that either he would return to her and their child or if that was not the outcome, he prayed for her to be at peace with his sacrifice and for a blessed life for their little one.  It was the best he could hope for if he died again today.  He had already left instructions with his men that if he were to fall, his body was to be burned immediately.  He had no intention of coming back though he did wonder in the back of his mind if he actually could be burned.  The last time certainly hadn’t done the trick.

_Gods know what the fuck would happen if I came back again.  I’d be tied to Tormund with my fucking luck._

Even though the thought amused him, it made his skin crawl all the same.

 

Jon’s horse trotted through the lines of men waiting for his instruction.  He was amazed by the sheer number of them.  There were wildlings, Southern soldiers, and men from nearly every house in the North.  He had two giants and a group of cannibals.  All of these groups were men that under any other circumstance would not get along but here they were, lined up and armed, ready to stand with Jon to take back Winterfell for his family.  He could never repay their bravery but he did intend, if he survived, to make their lives easier by providing lands and supplies that would help them establish homes for many generations to come.  As he moved through the men, he spoke of bravery and honor, of humility and appreciation.  He reassured them that under Sansa’s rule, they would be safe and cared for…and then he took his place at the front of the men, put his hand on Longclaw, and kicked his horse into a run as the words, “For the Starks!” ripped from his throat.  The words were repeated by the men following him, getting louder as they closed in on Winterfell.  The men who went ahead of them had broken through the wooden gates that led to the courtyard and without pause, Jon and his men rode through them, slashing at men as they went.

 

Jon had been right.  Bolton had not anticipated that they would move against him so quickly.  When Jon found him hiding in the servant’s pantry, the coward was shaking but still grinned at him with wormy lips and maniacal eyes.

“Do you know who I am Ramsay Snow?” Jon asked.

“Yes,” Ramsay said in a high pitched voice.  “You are the Stark bastard.  Jon Snow.”

“I am the nephew of Eddard Stark,” Jon said.  “Sansa Stark is my wife but you know that.”

“She is your sister.  You are just as filthy as those fucking Lannisters!  Sansa Stark is a whore just as Cersei Lannister was!”

Jon struck him, causing blood to pour from his mouth.  The pain only made Ramsay laugh.  Spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stone, he looked up at Jon, still smiling from ear to ear.

“You can kill me now,” Ramsay said.  “I don’t care to spend another moment with a sister fucker.”

Jon entertained the idea of making his death slow and agonizing but in the end, he swung Longclaw, severing the bastard’s head nearly completely.  The blade hit the stone wall behind Ramsay’s body with a sickening clink, preventing Jon from being able to fully decapitate him.

_Just as well.  Dead is dead in any case._

Jon had prepared himself for killing Ramsay Snow but he had not anticipated what happened next.

Tormund burst into the room, the collar of a man in his huge hands, and the owner of the shirt struggling to breathe as he was yanked behind the wildling.  The man’s face was purple and he was sweating profusely, it took but a moment for Jon to realize who he was looking at. 

Petyr Baelish.


	9. Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is face-to-face with the man who deserves everything that is coming to him before going home to Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this piece. I have been writing and rewriting this chapter because I wasn't satisfied with where I went with it.

Jon stood over Petyr Baelish, his eyes full of rage as thoughts of what he was going to do to the man to avenge his wife’s abuse surged through his head.

“This is the worst place in the world a piece of shit like you could end up right now,” Jon said.  “You are a man marked.”

“Jon Snow,” Baelish said.  “I am not complicit in the actions of the Bolton’s.  I came here to secure Winterfell for the Stark family, specifically Sansa Stark, your sister.”

Jon hit Petyr across the face with the butt of Longclaw, leaving the man to bleed into the snow.  Looking up at him in confusion, Petyr attempted to stand, blocked when Jon hit him again, knocking him to the ground and stepping on his neck until he struggled for air.

“Clearly you’re not as tied into the Queen’s court as you were Baratheon’s,” Jon sneered.  “Otherwise you would realize the danger you are in right now.  You are going to die Baelish.”

Releasing the pressure on his throat, Jon waited for the man’s response.  “You can’t kill a man who has done no wrong by you.” Petyr said, still wheezing and coughing.

“True, however, I can sentence you to death for what you did to my wife.” Jon almost found their game of words amusing.  He wanted Baelish to come to the realization on his own and watch the terror in his face when he did.

“Was your wife one of my whores?” Petyr asked.

Jon kicked him in his ribs.  “No, my wife has never been a whore.  Though you did work exceptionally hard to let her believe that of herself.  No, my wife is a lady.  One well above your station that you used manipulation and force to make your own.”

“Ladies don’t wed bastards,” Littlefinger said.  “You referring to her as a lady doesn’t make her one.”

Jon felt his rage rising in his chest.  “I, Jon Targaryen, of House Targaryen, hereby sentence you to die for crimes against the Warden of the North, Lady Sansa Stark.  You have committed treason by taking rights against her body without her consent.”

“So you found out who you really were?” Petyr asked.  The smile on his face almost made Jon’s stomach turn.  Clearly the truth of Jon’s parentage was known to him.  “I would imagine you rushed to marry Sansa as soon as you could to maintain your Stark privileges in the North.”

“The North belongs to Sansa and our children,” Jon said.  “I will never lay claim on what is hers, beyond her heart that is.  Of course, that is something you wanted more than anything in the world right?  More than money?  More than power?  I’d even guess more than your life since you were so willing to take chances that you knew could result in your demise.  You thought yourself so high and mighty yet you couldn’t get a Stark girl, regardless of your tactics and then she went and married a bastard.”

“There are many things you don’t know about Sansa Stark,” Petyr said.  “Things that would probably make you regret your choice of bride.”  A subtle smile played on his lips.  “I’m sure she claimed to be a maid when she came to your bed?”

“She made no claims of such.  I couldn’t have cared one way or another.  I love her.  I love her in a way you never could.  I came back from death for her.  I took Winterfell for her.  I am going to kill you.” Jon paused.  “For her.”

“So you intend to take my head?  You are prepared to carry out the death sentence you passed?” Petyr questioned.

“No,” Jon said.  “I am not going to take your head.  Your demise will be something you suffer through, just as you made my wife suffer when you raped her with your body and your words. In the end, nobody is going to remember House Baelish but I will make sure your exit from this world is well documented and spread through all seven Kingdoms so all will know the cost of harming my Lady.”

“So you are a Bolton now eh?”

Jon smiled.  “No, I am a Targaryen.  You will burn in dragon fire.”

Jon turned, signaling to his men to pick Baelish off the ground and instructing them to lock him in the cells.  He had to make preparations to return to King’s Landing and more importantly, his wife.

As he rode through the gates of Winterfell, he felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.  He had established the castle staff, instructing them with implicit detail how the castle was to be prepared for the arrival of the Warden of the North.  Petyr was being kept under guard in the cells of Winterfell until they returned, the guards only orders being to keep him alive, and preferably not comfortably.

By the time they reached King’s Landing, Jon was teetering on the verge of desperation.  For weeks he had ached to see Sansa in person, not just in his mind or through Ghost.  He wanted to touch her, to feel her body against his, inhale the sweet smell of her hair and skin.  He knew she would be heavy with their child, a thought that made his chest ache, wishing he had been there to watch as she grew.  Their arrival was timed badly, as they came into the keep in the middle of the night but Jon had no patience to wait until morning.  The one courtesy he did take was having a bath drawn for him as he refused to go to Sansa smelling like horses and wildlings.  She would never forgive him.

When he entered their chambers, the fire was down to embers, there was just enough light for him to see the outline of her in their bed.  He quietly added a few logs to the fire to push away the chill in the room before carefully lying down, facing her.  Her belly made the rest of her body look tiny in comparison.  If he had calculated correctly, she was seven moons gone now.  Their babe would be arriving soon.  He delicately lifted her shift up, exposing the bare skin of her rounded abdomen.  Placing his hand on her belly, he was startled when he felt movement almost instantly.  It made him jump, waking Sansa, something he was trying not to do.

“Jon?” Sansa was groggy, her eyes unfocused.

“Yes sweetling,” he whispered.  “I’m home.”

“This isn’t home,” she said. 

“No love, it isn’t.”  Jon moved closer.  “You are.  I’m going to take you home as soon as we can.”

Sansa opened her eyes fully, fixing Jon with the blue eyes that threatened to tear his beating heart right out of his chest.  “Can we leave tomorrow?”

Jon chuckled.  “No.  We have to wait until the babe is born and you two are healthy enough to make the trip.  If we left now, you’d have the babe on the King’s road.”

Sansa brought her hands to Jon’s face, making him shudder and close his eyes.  She kissed the side of his mouth before taking his lips to hers completely.  Jon was taken aback when images of Sansa and what she had been doing in the months he was gone filtered into his head.  In seconds, he had gotten to see everything he had missed, almost laughing out loud at the picture of Sansa realizing that she could no longer see her feet over her belly.   It also filled him with sadness knowing he had missed so much, something he intended to never do again. 

Jon pulled back from Sansa’s lips, taking a lock of her hair and smelling the tresses, something he had thought about almost obsessively during the time he was gone.  Most men would imagine their woman in a sexual way but all Jon could think about was how much he missed the smell of her hair and the way it shined when the sun came through the window in the morning.  Laying in the bed with her now lead his mind to much more base thoughts but he pushed them away in an effort to maintain control over his body.  It would be months before he would be able to love his wife the way he wanted to. 

Sansa’s lips on his neck pulled him out of his thoughts, his resolve weakening with every flick of her tongue.  He tried to move her to cradle her in his arms but she resisted.  He nearly came off the mattress when he felt a jolt of what was going through her mind and body.  It was pure unadulterated lust and need.

“Sansa,” he groaned.  “You’re pushing yourself into my head.  Stop that.”

She pressed herself closer to him.  “I’m not doing anything.  If you’re picking it up, that’s because you are snooping around me.”

“Sorry.”  Jon realized he had probably tuned into her without knowing it in his need for her.  Then a panic set in.  If he had done that, he had opened himself up to her and she would know everything. 

_Shit.  Baelish._

Sitting up, Sansa looked at Jon, her eyes almost wild and full of fear.  “What do you mean Baelish Jon?  What about Petyr?  Oh my Gods!  Is he coming here?  Does he know where I am?”  She was practically shaking, tears breaking and falling down her cheeks, and when he reached out to touch her, her skin was cold and clammy.

“Sweetling, calm down!”  Jon moved quickly to take her in his arms.  Holding her tightly to him, he spoke rapidly.  “He knows you are my wife but he doesn’t actually know where you are.”  Sansa’s breathing was fast and shallow.  “Take deep breaths love.  You have no reason to be afraid.  Please.  You have to calm down.  The babe needs you to stay calm.  Baelish is no threat to you.  Not at all.  You have to trust me.  I have him contained in the cells at Winterfell under deep guard.”

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Sansa said loudly.  “He has to die Jon!  We can’t let him live!  I belong to him!  He’s going to take me!”

Jon turned her to look at her, eye to eye. “He can’t take you!  You don’t belong to him Sansa.  You belong to me!  You are my wife, I am your husband.”  Jon didn’t understand what Sansa meant when she said she belonged to Petyr.  “Why do you think you belong to him?”

Sansa was now crying hard.  “I agreed to marry him before I left for Castle Black, before I knew I had to save you.  Before all of this.”

“Why?  Why would you have agreed to marry that old fuck?” Jon was angry now.  Not at Sansa but at the audacity of Baelish to have the expectation of possessing Sansa Stark.

“I’m sorry Jon….” She sniffled.  “Please don’t yell at me.  Please.  I can’t bare it.”

Jon’s face softened, his grip on her arms lightening.  “I shouldn’t be yelling.  I’m not angry at you.  I am angry at him.  He had no right to take from you.  You were a child Sansa.  He should be drawn and quartered for even thinking about you like that.”

“He’s going to make a claim on me,” Sansa said.  “He’s going to demand I go back to the Vale.”

Jon took her hands in his.  “He can’t make a claim on you.  We are wedded and bedded.  The evidence of that is more than obvious.”  He grinned, pointing at her rounded belly.  “And if he even tried, I would slaughter him where he stood.  He is going to die.  I have already passed the sentence.  I am letting him rot in the cells until we return to Winterfell.  I didn’t want to wait out the time to get the official approval from Dany to execute him.  I needed to get back to you and our babe.”

“He can’t get out?” Sansa asked.

“Absolutely not,” Jon said.  “He is under constant guard.  He is to have no visitors outside of the Maester.”

Jon felt Sansa relax, her body melting against his.  He held onto her tightly as he laid her down, pulling her close to him and covering her with the furs.  “Sleep sweetling.  I’m here.  You are safe.”  It wasn’t until she had fallen into a deep sleep that he finally allowed himself to release the tears he had held away from her.  He wished he could turn back time, protect her from everything and everyone that had done her harm.  Even if it meant they would have ended up in a different place, he would happily sacrifice his heart to give her a life full of beauty and joy and all of the good things she deserved.

His chest felt heavy when he thought of bringing a child into a world that was so cold and vicious.  To his last breath, he would fight to make sure his children got to grow up happy and loved, safely guarded within the walls of Winterfell.


	10. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon speaks to Dany about the Baelish project.
> 
> Sansa is jealous.
> 
> Lady Brienne gets a promotion.
> 
> Jon gets his ass handed to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I write chapters that are too long? Please let me know! I always wonder if I'm doing too much and losing the reader.

“Dragon fire isn’t usually the way we execute people,” Dany said.  “It is powerful and doesn’t discriminate.  Are you prepared to risk innocent lives to make a spectacle of Lord Baelish’s demise?”

Jon pursed his lips.  “No, I suppose not.  I shouldn’t have said it.  It was in a moment of rage and I had no way to back it up.  With your permission, I will carry out the execution by hanging.”

“I didn’t say that we wouldn’t burn him.” A smile played on her lips.  “What I am saying is that we will have to make better arrangements to carry out this execution.  He violated Sansa Stark, a lady of Winterfell and rightful Warden of the North.  His political alliances and behavior would be considered treason and his whorehouses go against the Faith.  I will approve the order of execution.  I am secure in knowing my decision will be supported fully by the Council.  I will also approve your method.  As a woman, even being a Targaryen, my rule is challenged.  Many of these Lords and Ladies take me to be weak.”

“I would hardly say you are weak,” Jon said.  “Even as your nephew, I would fear retribution from you.”

“I know that.  However, the people see me as a young, pretty girl who is ill equipped to rule Westeros.  I think allowing you to use dragon fire as a tool of execution would serve several purposes,” she continued.  “For one, it would solidify your claim as a Targaryen if they witnessed our dragons obeying your orders.  The knowledge that there is a male Targaryen heir would reinforce our claim and hold on the Iron Throne.  While we can’t use the dragons to carry out executions on a regular basis, I suspect doing this will instill the fear of our power in those that would seek to fight against us.  It would also let those who would betray us know what the outcome will be.”

“You don’t need a man standing behind you to reinforce your rule.  You are a powerful Queen in your own right,” Jon said.  “Any man who would make the mistake of judging you weak will realize his folly quickly.”

Dany smiled at her nephew.  “If you would like to carry out the execution of Petyr Baelish by means of dragon fire, I will support it.  Though we would need to have him transported to King’s Landing to do it.  We have the facilities here to execute him with no casualties.  I would not risk Winterfell any sooner than you would.”

“I understand,” Jon said.  “I will send a raven though I would like to wait until after our babe is born to have Baelish at the Red Keep.  Sansa will be giving birth soon and I would not have her worry.”

“Yes, that would be preferable.  Speaking of which, have you considered names for the newest Targaryen heir?” Dany asked. 

“A few but we haven’t made a definitive choice yet,” Jon said.  “Sansa insists on seeing the little one before choosing a name.”

“Your wife is a lovely woman,” Dany said.  “I have appreciated and even enjoyed her company here at King’s Landing.  I will be sad to see the three of you leave.”

“You know you are welcome at Winterfell,” Jon said.  “We would welcome you warmly.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to Sansa.”

Jon had been back for a fortnight but he spent very little time away from his wife.  In the days since his return, he had found that being away from her caused more trouble than it was worth.  The closer they got to the end of Sansa’s pregnancy, the more agitated she became.  Her heightened emotional state was almost unbearable for him yet he couldn’t disconnect his mind with hers.  He had attempted it several times, especially in the training yard where a lack of focus usually resulted in painful injuries.  He wasn’t sure if he didn’t have the ability or if Sansa wasn’t letting him do it. 

As he walked the corridors, he heard the whispers and giggles of the groups of ladies as he passed.  It seemed like every corner he turned, there was another gaggle of them.  Their placement almost seemed intentional…and strange.

“Prince Jon,” Brienne called out.  She jogged to catch up with him, walking by his side.  “I apologize.  I didn’t anticipate your meeting with the Queen being so brief.  Otherwise I would have waited for you to escort you back.”

“I appreciate the gesture Lady Brienne but I am capable of walking by myself,” he said.  “I have been known to win a few fights here and there.”

“Aye,” she said.  “I know you are a capable fighter.  However, I am under strict orders by Lady Sansa to not let you out of my sight.  She seems…..”

“I know,” Jon said.  “I would like to think the birth of the babe will end her constant fretting but I imagine it will just add to it.”

“Yes, she has already instructed me to look to hire guards for the babe,” she said.  “I am to find Stark loyalists to protect the babe while in the Red Keep and escort your family back to Winterfell.”

“You may put that task to the side my Lady,” Jon said.  “I have already addressed that problem.  When we return to Winterfell, we will be well protected.  Tormund, Davos, and a few other of my most trusted men will be with us along with the entourage of servants.  Will you be with us?”

Brienne looked thoughtful.  “I have no reason to stay here so yes, I would like to serve at Winterfell if you’d have me.”

“Lady Brienne,” Jon said.  “I would like to personally appoint you to the position of Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard. I have no doubt my wife would approve of this appointment as you are very dear to her.”

As they walked, another fit of giggles and whispers came from behind them.

“What is going on with the ladies of the court these days?  It seems like they are everywhere.  Don’t they have something to do with their time?” Jon asked.

Brienne cleared her throat.  “Prince Jon, permission to speak openly?”

“Aye.  But only if you quit calling me a Prince.  Jon will suffice.  You are a member of our personal guard now.”

Brienne smiled proudly.  “Jon….the ladies of the court are aware of Lady Sansa’s condition and the impending birth.  It is my understanding that they are hoping that you will pick one of them during the time Sansa is indisposed.”

“Pick them for what?”  Jon was confused.  “A nursemaid?”

“No….for your needs that Lady Sansa will be unable to fulfill.”  Brienne’s tone was cautious.  Her cheeks flushed pinked and Jon took her meaning.

His eyes were wide.  “Oh…I see.  Um…well….While I appreciate the consideration, I am not unfaithful to my wife so their interest will not be returned.  If you could delicately spread that word, I would be grateful.”

“As you request,” Brienne said.  “Here we are, I will be outside the door.”

“Brienne,” Jon said.  “Please feel free to take the afternoon for yourself.  I can take care of my lady wife and I don’t anticipate us leaving our chambers for the remainder of the day.  She spends a good deal of her time sleeping and she won’t need you to sacrifice your time for that.”

Brienne nodded, turning to leave.

Entering their chambers, Jon saw a servant standing in the solar with drying linens in her arms.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Jon said.  He took the linens from her and excused her for the day.

He walked into the small room to the side of their solar where they bathed to find Sansa lying in the tub, her legs propped up on the ledge.  Grabbing a stool, he took a seat next to her.

“Feeling better?” he asked.  When he had left her this morning, she was in a strange state.  Lately her thoughts had been a jumbled mess that he couldn’t make heads or tails of.  He could just sense her unease and it spread through him like disease.

“I don’t think my feet are ever going to fit in real shoes again,” she said.  “They are massive!”

“Sweetling,” Jon said.  “They aren’t massive.  They are swollen.  The Maester said it was common for women in your condition and it would abate once you give birth.”

Sansa just grunted.

“Sansa,” Jon spoke softly.  “What is disturbing you?  Are you scared of having the babe?”

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I just feel odd.”

Jon helped her stand up, holding her steady as she stepped out of the tub.  He wrapped her in the drying linens before taking another and drying her hair.  He walked with her to her dressing table, pulling the bench out for her to take a seat.  Taking her brush from the table, he carefully started working through the tangles in her hair.

“I wish I knew how to help you but I’m at a loss,” Jon said. 

Sansa was silent for a few moments, looking down and wincing whenever Jon would tug at her hair.  “Is Dany going to keep our child?”

Jon stopped his strokes.  “What?”

“Is Dany going to keep our child?” She repeated.

“No,” he said.  “What would make you think that?”

“This babe is the Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne,” Sansa murmured.  “She is within her rights to claim him.”

“Is that why you’ve been so melancholy since I returned?  Did you hear something?” Jon asked.

“I just feel like I’m growing an heir for the Throne,” Sansa said.  “I didn’t hear anything directly but some of my ladies have mentioned the babe growing up here in the Keep.”

Jon felt his temper spike.  “You should ask your ladies if they have ever wondered what dragon fire feels like as it burns the flesh from their bones.  No, you are not growing an heir.  You are carrying a life we created.  He or She is ours and always will be.  I would die again before I would allow anyone, and I mean anyone, to take a babe from your arms.  Whether it be our first born or our twentieth child.”

Sansa began to cry.  It wasn’t her usual soft, almost elegant tears but deeply rooted sobs that rumbled from her chest.  Her fear and aching shot through Jon so forcefully that he had to gasp for breath.  Griping the back of her chair, he had to compose himself.  Whatever this was, it was real and it was painful, it was something that words couldn’t fix or placate in the slightest.

“Sansa,” he gasped.  “Please…”  He clutched at his chest, the ache not a physical pain but it felt like something was searing into his soul.

“Have you taken another woman to your bed?” Sansa blurted out.

“No!  Where did you get that idea from?” he asked.

“I heard their whispers,” she said.  “I was listening to what was going on around you.”

“When I was walking with Lady Brienne?”  He felt his heart sink.  He knew exactly what she had heard and what she had gotten from him.  He could run himself through with Longclaw for allowing such silliness to feed his ego.

Sansa just watched him in the mirror.

He rubbed his face, taking a deep breath.  He hoped she could pick up his regret and sadness for upsetting her.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have allowed their attentions to turn my head.  If you heard what I said to Brienne, it was the truth.  I would never be unfaithful to you.  I was being a foolish man, as we have a tendency to do.”

“You liked the idea of them wanting to fuck you,” Sansa said.  “You may have said you wouldn’t but as you said, you are a foolish man.  Men always want more than what is in front of them.  It hasn’t escaped my notice that you haven’t wanted me since you returned from Winterfell.”

“The fuck I haven’t,” Jon said.  “I can’t have you.”

Sansa stood up, dropping the drying linens to the floor.  “I’m going to bed Jon.  I will see you in the morning.”

Jon sat slack jawed at her abrupt dismissal of him.  He stood for a few moments, weighing his options before walking towards the solar.  He sat down on the sofa and began to remove his boots.  Stripping down to his smallclothes and tunic, he laid down, flipping a fur over his legs and staring at the ceiling.  As uncomfortable as the sofa was on his back, it was the cold that bothered him more than anything.  He didn’t care for being in the same space as his wife but not holding her in his arms.  He went over anything and everything he may have done…or not done that could have caused the rift between them.  The answer practically punched him in the gut.

_She thinks I don’t want her because I intentionally stopped myself from having base thoughts about her.  I haven’t touched her intimately at all since I came back._

Jon sat up, looking around in the low light for his boots before giving up on finding them and walking quickly to their chamber.  Sansa laid on her side, bundled in a fetal position under the furs but shivering from the chill.  The fire in the chamber had not been tended to, something he would have normally done before they went to bed.  He would also be against her body, sharing his body heat with her to keep her warm through the night. 

Quietly, he added wood to the fire, stoking it until it came back to life, roaring light and heat into the room.  He knew she was awake.  He could hear her.  Her inner dialogue was a mixture of anger or rather from what he could tell, jealousy and chiding herself for not being the proper lady wife.

“I don’t want a perfect lady wife,” Jon said.  “I want you.”

“Get out of my head,” Sansa said.  “I’d like to have a private thought sometimes.”

“I could say the same,” Jon said.  “But it doesn’t work that way with us.  We don’t have the ability to be anything other than absolutely honest with one another.”

Sansa huffed, pulling the furs higher to her neck.

Jon moved to the side of the bed, pulling the furs back and crawling in behind her.  She tried to move forward but he held onto her around her belly.  He nuzzled at her ear, kissing the skin behind it.  His body reacted the way it always did when he was near Sansa but instead of turning to hide it, he pressed himself against her.

“I would argue that my cock has considerably less reservations than I do my lady,” Jon chuckled.  He moved his hands over her bare skin, enjoying every new curve his fingers touched.  He kissed down her neck to her shoulder, carefully taking her fuller breast in his palms, playing with the nipple with his thumb.  “You have no idea how badly I want to take you.”

Sansa whimpered, pressing her ass against him.

“I saw you,” he whispered in her ear.  “I saw you when you touched yourself at night.  Even as far away as I was, I was able to watch you reach your pleasure.  Though I rarely lasted as long as you.  I had to bite my fist to stay quiet.  I thought you heard me sometimes.  I would whisper filthy things to you and you would reach your peak.  So many nights I wished you could hear me.”

Leaning her head back against his chest, she writhed under his touch.  “I heard you.  I heard your words like your lips were against my ear.  I could see you too but only at night.  Only during our lovemaking.”

Jon’s heart began to beat heavily in his chest.  All the time he thought he was fantasizing about his wife, he was actually loving her.  His throat was tight with emotion.  Untying his smallclothes, he pushed them down his legs, sitting up just enough to pull his tunic over his head.  Settling himself back against Sansa, he ran his hand over her backside, bringing his fingers to her center from behind.  He groaned into her hair at the feel of her wetness.

“Can I be inside of you?”  His words were tinged with desperation.  “I’ll be careful love.  So careful.”

Sansa answered him by moving her hips up to make his entrance easier.  Both moaned when he pushed into her.  His strokes were gentle and measured, his hips moving smoothly, almost delicately back and forth.  He touched her everywhere his hands could reach, whispering words of love and need in her ear.  Jon nearly came undone when she put her leg over his hip, leaning forward as he continued his tender strokes from behind.  Her cunt was so tight and wet around him that he had to fight for control, a battle he lost sooner than he had hoped for.  He pulled out of her quickly, releasing his seed against the cheeks of her ass and burying his face in her back as he rode out his pleasure, his body shuddering.

He didn’t take time to bask in the boneless aftermath of his orgasm, intent on bringing Sansa off as he shimmied down her body, lifting her leg and looking up at her from between her thighs.  He gently pushed her over to her back, settling himself more fully at her center.

“Gods I’ve missed this,” he murmured against her mound.  “Your cunt is so beautiful.  I love how it feels, how it tastes….how you smell.”

He couldn’t see her face over her belly so he had to settle for listening to the noises she was making and reading her body movements.  In her aroused state, she had let her guard down and he could hear and sense everything she was thinking and feeling throughout her body.  There were even a few points he could swear he could feel what he was doing to her.  Usually that proved to be a distraction but this time it was interesting.  The touches and methods she usually liked weren’t giving her the stimulation she needed.  He pressed his tongue harder against her nub, alternating the pressure as he circled it.

He knew she was trying desperately to go over the edge but she couldn’t.   By the time he moved back up her body, kissing over her belly and her breasts tenderly, his tongue ached and he could feel her frustration. 

“I can’t,” Sansa said.  “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you sweetling,” he reassured her.  “You are tense.  I heard you.  You keep thinking about those courtiers.”

Sansa scowled at him.

Even though he knew she was upset, he found her scrunched face endearing.  He chuckled as he fell to her side and buried his face in her neck.  “You’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Sansa said sternly.  “I am the Queen of the fucking North.  Regardless of their whispers and giggles, I am your wife.  You belong to me.  The most they will ever get out of you is a fuck.  I am under no disillusion that you are above the needs of a man however, if a whore thinks she can take what is mine, she will find that wolves protect their territory fiercely.  She may get your cock but I have your heart.”

Jon sat up on her elbows, his eyes wide as he looked down at his wife.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak in such a manner in your entire life.”

“I suggest you remember that I am just as much a wolf as you are Jon Snow,” she said.  “And I can be just as vicious.”

Jon could feel her rage.  He also knew the truth of her words. 

He moved back between her legs, resting on his calves, he looked over every inch of her body.  Jon was surprised by how aroused he was by her words and the ferocity behind them.  His cock was already hard again, possibly harder than it had been to start with.  He set his eyes on her face, his pupils wide, making them look almost black. 

“You have no reason to be jealous of any other woman.  Yes, I admit I had a few fleeting base thoughts about them but it wasn’t anything I would ever act upon.”  Jon began touching her center, his thumb finding her nub.  “I didn’t even think about fucking them.  I’m ashamed to admit it but all that occurred to me was getting my cock sucked.”

“Why?” Sansa gasped.  “Why wouldn’t you fuck them?”

Jon could see the glistening of her folds in the firelight.  She moved her hips with every swipe of his thumb, seeking more friction.  He carefully put his finger inside of her to find that she was slick, her low moan relighting the ache in him.  He was just about to enter her when he stopped, looking around the bed with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” Sansa asked.  “What are you doing?”

“Give me a moment,” he said. 

He quickly gathered pillows, arranging them around her to push her upper body into a somewhat upright position and lifting her backside up to put two pillows underneath.  When he was satisfied, he pushed her knees back apart and moved close enough to take himself in hand and tease her entrance.

“You never answered my question Jon.  Why wouldn’t you fuck them?” Sansa asked again.

Jon pushed himself into her, careful not to go as deep as he normally would.  He was as careful as he had been the first time he had taken her tonight.  He took shallow thrusts, relying on his legs to support him, not willing to risk putting weight on her swollen belly.  With one hand he held her hip, the other worked diligently against her nub.

“I don’t fuck the ladies of the court,” he said.  “I love you.  I am hopelessly in love with you.  I put a babe in your belly.  You are my woman.  You are my wolf.”

“You are my wolf Jon Snow,” she said.  “The dragon claims you but you are a wolf of Winterfell.  You are fierce and loyal.  You are my protector.  You fuck me like the wolves of the wild and make love to me like I’m softer than snow under your touch.”

“Can you feel that?” Jon asked.  His thrusts were getting faster, her words pushing him closer to his edge.  He could feel her peak building.  He watched her as she writhed and panted, her hands trying to reach for him but couldn’t touch him.  Taking her hand in his, he moved his thumb faster and harder against her nub, her nails biting into his skin as she peaked around him, almost making him forget to pull out of her before spilling on the sheets.  His body shook intensely, every hair felt like it was standing on end.  He had to fall backwards, unable to support himself upright any longer.  His mind was scattered and racing.

“You just felt both of our peaks didn’t you?” Sansa asked.

“Gods yes!  What in seven hells was that?  That has never happened before!” Jon said rapidly.

“That happens to me every time.  You’ve never felt my peak?”  She had always thought it was something both of them experienced.

“I do but never like that,” Jon said.  “I almost came out of my skin!”

“I think it’s a lovely feeling,” Sansa said.  “I even felt the cold when you pulled out of me to spill. Why are you doing that?  I’m not going to get with child again.”

“It’s almost your time.  I don’t want to risk…” Jon paused.  “I don’t want you to have my seed inside of you when the babe comes.”

“Is that why you haven’t touched me since you returned from Winterfell?” she asked.

Jon moved to lay at her side.  “No.  I didn’t think it was proper to make love when you are in this condition.  I didn’t want to risk hurting you or the babe.”

“On the contrary,” she said.  “The Maester said the babe might come sooner if we make love.”

“Is it safe for you and the babe?  You still have a few weeks left.”

“I doubt the Maester would have recommended it if it was dangerous,” she said.  “It would certainly be the easiest part of this pregnancy.”

Jon laughed.  “Well then I shall do my duty, often and as well as possible.”

“I don’t want to be here with Petyr is brought to the keep,” she said suddenly.

Jon was pulled out of his haze.  “How did you know Petyr would be here?”

“I tuned into you when you went to see Dany,” she said.  “You keep things from me and I’m tired of it.  I know you think you are protecting me but it causes me more stress.  I don’t know what to expect and that is bothersome.”

“You’re right,” he admitted.  “I do try to hide things from you though for the life of me I don’t know why.  And it isn’t fair.  I hate to say this but there’s no way around you being here when Petyr is here.”

“I will leave for Winterfell as soon as I birth our babe,” Sansa said resolutely.  “I expect you will ensure that Baelish’s traveling party will not intercept with ours.”

“Sweetling,” he said quietly.  “We can’t go to Winterfell until after his execution.  I passed the sentence so I have to do it myself.  We are stuck in King’s Landing until the order is seen out.”

“No Jon.”  Sansa got out of the bed.  Standing over him, she looked down, her eyes fierce and jaw set.  “You are stuck here.  The babe and I are going home.  You are welcome to play out the dragon fire fantasy with your Aunt but I will not risk our child being anywhere near Petyr Baelish.  I am tired of being a scared girl.  I am a woman grown.  I will be a Mother within the moon and I can’t afford to be afraid of my own shadow.”

Jon got to his feet, standing in front of her.  His face was stern, his voice low and laced with anger.  “I am not a man to demand obedience but in this instance, I will remind you that I am your husband.  I am the man who put that babe in your belly.  You and our child are mine.  I do not make this decision lightly and as my wife, I have the expectation that you will adhere to my wishes and respect my authority.”

Sansa huffed.  She reached for her robe, wrapping it around herself before turning back to Jon.  “I will remind you that I am your wife, not your whore.  You may have put this babe in my belly but I have been the one who has nurtured, protected, and sacrificed my body for moons to bring this child into the world.  As your wife, I will always respect your authority and in most cases, trust your decisions but not in this.  And if you ever had the expectation of having an obedient wife, you knew you had pissed that idea into the wind when you fell in love with me. I am a Stark of Winterfell.  I am Warden of the North.  I stand beside you but I will never stand behind you.”

“So am I to be the wife now?” Jon asked incredulously.

Cocking her head to the side, she pursed her lips.  “No, you don’t have the balls to do it.”

Jon laughed.  He laughed so hard and so long that his belly hurt.  His eyes watered and he struggled to take the breath he needed to speak.  Sansa smiled, her anger subsiding as she saw the humor in their argument. 

When Jon had composed himself, he grinned.  Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and finally her lips.  Looking down at her, he realized how much he appreciated having a wife with a backbone, even if it was against him at times.

“I love you,” he whispered.  “I love you so much.”

“You’re still an ass,” Sansa retorted.  “But we will sort this issue out another day.”

Jon paused for a moment.  “So…I wouldn’t mind doing my duty.  In the interest of your comfort of course.”  He was grinning from ear-to-ear.  He pulled her closer to him, pressing his pelvis against her to let her feel his readiness.  Cupping her breasts, he leaned down, pressing his lips firmly against hers.  Sansa pulled back and gasped.

“I haven’t gotten started yet!” Jon said. 

“Jon….” Sansa started.

The splash of warm water that hit Jon’s bare feet caused him to jump.  Looking down, there was a puddle on the floor between them, Sansa’s robe wet where it stuck to her legs.

“I’ll get your chamber pot!” Jon exclaimed as he turned to retrieve it.

Sansa’s hand grasped his arm tightly.  “No Jon.  Go fetch the Maester.  That’s my waters.  The babe is coming.”

Jon’s eyes were wide in panic and fear.  As he turned back towards the door, Sansa squeezed his arm again to get his attention.

“Put on your breeches and tunic,” she gritted out.  “Or the courtiers will get their wish.”


	11. A King is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gives birth to the next Heir to the Throne.
> 
> Jon learns a few things...and his bits and bobs may never be the same again.

Sansa’s screams were blood curdling.  Jon paced the corridor, his body aching and nerves shot.  He remembered Lady Stark laboring with Rickon but he didn’t recall it going on this long or being this severe.  It had been nearly two days and Jon was at his wit’s end.  He didn’t know what to do, or if there was anything he could do.  What he did know was his wife was suffering and it was gutting him from the inside out.

Every time he opened the channel between them, he could only maintain the connection for a short amount of time and it usually ended with him vomiting.  He was no longer bringing up food but rather a mixture of bile and blood. 

Dany stood next to him, her hands on his arm, caressing them lovingly.  “Jon…this is a woman’s crux.  She will suffer but once the babe is in her arms, she will forget the pain of childbirth.”

Jon rubbed his eyes.  “But I never will.  I swear this will be our only babe.  I will never ask this of Sansa again.  Never.”

“Jon,” Dany said.  “You can’t make that choice for Sansa.  And you know that we need heirs for the Throne.”

Anger spiked in his chest.  “My wife is not your breeder.  She will not be used to give you a gaggle of heirs.”

“I know nephew,” Dany said.  “I don’t want this any more than you do.  But we must do what is best for the realm.  It is our birthright.  I know Sansa is important to you but she was always intended to be a lady, to birth Princes and Princesses.”

Sansa screamed again.  Jon’s body shivered.  His words were broken as his throat tightened and tears pricked his eyes.  “She is precious to me.  Without her I can’t live.”  He could feel Sansa’s exhaustion.  Her body was getting weaker and weaker as the hours dragged on.  Her mind had become a jumbled mess with very few lucid thoughts.  His chest ached when he saw the images she had brought up to focus on as an escape from the pain she was going through. 

He saw her watching him as he slept.  Her fingers trailing across his lips and playing with his beard.  His arms wrapped around her waist as he held her to him while they made love.  The smell of leather, musk, and soap she inhaled when she would nuzzle her face against his neck.  The salt on her tongue when she would flick it against his skin.  He gasped when the sensation of his cool, soft curls between her fingers made his own fingers tingle.  She had carded her fingers through his hair for what seemed like hours the night he fell asleep between her legs, his head resting on her hip, his cheek against her swollen belly to feel their babe move inside.

“Jon!”  The scream echoed from the other side of the door.  “Please…I need you!”

Jon shook off Dany’s hand when she tried to stop him.  “It’s not proper Jon.  You can’t be in the birthing chamber.”

“Fuck propriety,” Jon said harshly.  He went into the room, collapsing next to his wife’s bed, holding her hand and kissing her sweaty head.

“Sam says the babe will be here soon,” she said.  “I can feel the babe.  I want to push.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked.  “Please let me stay with you.  I don’t want to leave.”

“Jjjjoooonnnnn,” she wailed. 

Their connection opened, causing Jon to moan, the pain surging through his body quickly and viciously.  He felt lightheaded and was sure if he tried to stand, he would faint. 

“Fuck!” he roared. 

_There’s no way she can be in this much pain and not die._

He couldn’t stand it.  Fear gripped him, the knowledge that this could take her from him shredding every last strand of strength he had left in him.  He felt her push.  The burning was enough to reduce him to a sniveling coward on the floor.  He tried to close off their link but it was of no use.  He knew Sansa was also trying to do the same thing but the charge between them was too strong to be clipped.  Jon was going to be the first man to ever experience child birth as a woman would.

Sam had given Sansa leave to push at will and she had for the better part of an hour.  Every push was excruciating and there were a couple of times Jon had to ask his wife to not push just so he could take a breath.  As the baby’s head crowned, Sansa screamed, his ear pulsing from the tone and volume.  His groin felt like he had impaled himself on a stake and while Sansa didn’t cry, he shed a few tears in agony.

“One more strong push Lady Sansa.  The babe is almost here,” Sam said.

When she pushed, she screamed though Jon wasn’t sure who’s scream was louder, hers…or his.  He had been in many battles, taken horrific wounds…he had been murdered with knives and come back to life in a fire…and this was the worst pain he had ever endured.  He sat stunned as the women cleaned the babe and Sam worked to take care of Sansa.  It seemed like forever until his wife was ready to receive their child.  One of the ladies offered the babe to him, he raised his hands and declined.  Sansa should be the first to hold their child.

They rested the bundle of blankets and babe in her arms.  She put her face to the little red cheeks and took a deep breath, inhaling the infant’s smell.  Jon thought his heart would break from watching them.  The babe looked at Sansa as if she was the center of the Universe.  Jon leaned down, touching the little one’s head gently.

“What is it?” Jon asked Sam.

“It’s a babe,” Sam said.  “Did you expect her to birth a wolf pup?”  He grinned.

Jon just raised his eyebrows.

“You have a son Jon,” Sam said.  “A perfectly healthy baby boy.”

Jon looked at Sansa.  “We have a boy.  A son.”  His smile was ear-to-ear.  Thank fuck we don’t have to ever go through this again.”

“Oh we’re having more babes Jon,” Sansa said.  “As soon as we’re able, we’re going to get with child again.”

Jon’s eyes went wide.  “I don’t know if I can do this sweetling,” he said.  “This nearly killed me.  We may never see my stones again after this one.”

Sansa laughed, her sweat hair sticking to her forehead.  The babe latched to her breast, sleepily suckling.

“What are we going to call him?” Sansa asked.

“Aemon Stark Targaryen.  A good proper name for a Targaryen heir,” Jon said.

“He can’t carry the name Stark as heir,” Sansa said.

“Aye, he can.  It is his middle name.  He is just as much a Stark as a Targaryen,” he said.  “Speaking of which…we should let Dany come to see him.  I’m sure she is waiting on edge.”

“She can wait a little longer,” Sansa said.  “He is ours alone for at least right now.”


	12. Ferocity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy Jon!
> 
> Sansa handles some personal business.

Jon paced the halls of the Keep with his newborn babe in his arms. Aemon had woken, screaming loudly, a sound that usually had Jon reaching for his sword out of habit until coming to enough to realize it was his boy. Tonight the babe had soaked himself and even after Jon had changed his swaddling and clothing, stayed awake, cooing and smiling. Every time he would try to put him back in his bed, the boy would let out little squeaks until Jon decided to take him out of the room to let his wife get some much needed rest.

“Little Prince,” he whispered. He patted his backside as they made their paces. “You have to sleep. Your Mum is exhausted. Tomorrow is a big day. You’re going to meet your subjects for the first time. You don’t want to do it with circles under your eyes do you?”

The following day was Aemon’s official coming out. The babe was now two moons old and the time had come to introduce the future Targaryen king to the people of King’s Landing. The previous week had been stressful, Petyr Baelish having arrived to face his punishment and Sansa’s subsequent reaction to him being so close to her and the babe. Jon hadn’t intended to present Aemon publicly but Dany had insisted that it be done before they returned to Winterfell. They would be leaving for their home in the North within the moon, most likely on Rhaegal’s back. Dany had insisted they travel by dragon to make the journey shorter, less tedious, and safer for the Heir to the Iron Throne. Jon had agreed because while he didn’t like the idea of his family being near the dragons, he knew it would ensure his wife and son’s safe return to Winterfell.

“Soon we are going home. You think this is nice, wait until you see Winterfell. We have a big castle with lots of land for your to explore. You’re going to meet all your Northern friends and family. The Lords and Ladies of the North will all come to see you.” Jon spoke soothingly. “They will all love you and protect you. You are the King and Queen’s heir but more importantly, you are the grandson of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Your Grandmother would have loved you. She didn’t like me much but that’s a story for another day. Father, or well, my Uncle would have taught you to shoot arrows in the yard and swing a sword. If I do this right, you will grow to be a man half as good as he was. Hopefully the other half will be as good as your namesake. He was a Maester at Castle Black. He would be so happy to know the Targaryens aren’t alone anymore.”

The babe’s eyes were getting heavy. “Your Mum says we’re going to fill Winterfell full of children so you’ll have a lot of brothers and sisters. I don’t know if we’re going to actually do that but your Mummy usually gets her way. She always gets her way. Do you know why that it is? I’ll tell you why. Because I love your Mum with all my heart. I would do anything for her. I would give her anything to make her happy. When she is happy, she smiles and it is the most beautiful thing in the North. Did you know she brought me back to life? Yes, she did. She gave her heart to me and I will never be able to repay her. You and your Mum are everything to me. I know why I came back. It was for you two and all the babes we will have in the future. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure you have all the days you have coming to you. I will protect you, love you, and be there whenever you need me.”

Aemon let out little snores against Jon’s neck, his little body going lax in his arms. When he returned to their chamber, Sansa was awake and waiting for them. He laid the babe down in his bed and crawled into his own bed next to his wife.

“Do you normally have such deep conversations with infants who can’t understand you?” Sansa asked amused.

“He understands me,” Jon said. “I know it. Or he just wants me to shut up so he falls asleep faster when I talk to him like that.”

“I think the latter is more likely,” she said. “I can hear him. Can you?”

Jon smiled. “Yes. That is sad for him though. He’s never going to be able to get away with anything having parents that can read his mind.”

“True but there is a benefit to it,” Sansa said. “Should he be in danger, we will know and be able to help him.”

“Yes but what happens when he gets old enough to….well….”. Jon stopped. “We’re going to revisit that one later.” He took Sansa into his arms, her warm body felt good against his. He gently rubbed her back, nudging his nose into her hair to inhale her scent.

Sansa gingerly moved the neck of his tunic, opening it more to expose his chest to her. Grazing her mouth across the well of his throat, she nipped his skin between her lips. Her hand came up from the bottom of his shirt, her fingers dancing across the bare skin of his lower belly. Jon caught her hand in his.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to have to go out in the middle of the night and beat a stack of hay with a sword,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “Sam says I’m perfectly fine to resume our marital relations. We just need to go slow at first.”

“I’m not going to get another babe on you,” Jon said. “We’ve already proven we are potent.”

Sansa smiled against his chest. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I would,” he said. “That nearly tore the ass end off of me when you birthed Aemon. I don’t want to do that again anytime soon. My left ball is still missing.”

Sansa laughed. “There are ways to avoid making a babe. Don’t spill inside of me.”

Jon thought about it for a moment. “Aemon is just a few feet away. I don’t want to wake him. I just got him asleep.”  
Sansa put her finger on his lips. “Then you should be quiet.”

Jon rolled her to her back, resting himself between her thighs. He pressed his hardness against her center to show her that he was already more than willing. She gasped. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to be quiet sweetling.” He smirked and kissed her. “Are you sure you really want to try this? We can wait you know.”

“Your cock is telling me a very different story,” she said.

“It has always had a mind of its own. It gets me in more trouble….”. Sansa cut him off by kissing him as she raked her nails up his back, pulling his tunic up and over his head.

Jon didn’t take the usual care he did when loving her. The sleeping babe a few feet from their bed making little noises that reminded them that time was of the essence. When he entered her, he had to press his face against the skin of her neck to keep from crying out. The heat and wetness surrounding him was already threatening to undo him, it had been too long since he had been inside his wife. It reminded him of when he had returned from Winterfell after being away from her body for so long.

Their lovemaking was slow and languid, Jon fighting the urge to thrust harder with every sigh and quiet moan that passed Sansa’s lips. Her hands moved all over his body, making his skin tingle and his body ache. He sat back on his legs, holding her body over his arm as he thrust, using his thumb to circle her nub until he felt her body tense and watched her mouth fall open. Laying her back down, he quickened his movements, pulling out at the last second and spilling himself on the linen.

When he came back to himself, he heard Sansa giggling lightly. “You’re sleeping on that side of the bed!” Jon smiled at her.

Falling next to her, he pulled her against his body, their legs twining together.

“Tomorrow is the big day,” Jon said. “I just want to get this over with so we can go home.”

“Is Baelish being transported separately from us on the trip back?” Sansa asked.

“No,” he said. “Baelish will not be returning to Winterfell. His sentence is going to be carried out here. Dany wants to do it within the week.”

Sansa didn’t respond. Her silence spoke much more than she ever could. Jon listened as her breathing changed and her body melted into his as she fell asleep.

When he woke, the bed was cold. The warmth his wife’s body usually provided was missing. The sun had yet to rise and he wasn’t surprised when he reached over to find he was alone in the bed. He could hear Aemon making little noises to let it be known that he was awake but he hadn’t started wailing yet so there was at least that. Jon didn’t have to wonder where Sansa had gone. He knew.

Jon got dressed quickly, summoning a nursemaid for Aemon and changing the babe’s swaddling while he waited. When the nurse arrived, he handed their son to her and swiftly walked towards the dungeons. As he entered the cell area, he heard Baelish speaking in a tone he had never heard out of the man. It was one of desperation and pleading. Rather than stepping in and taking over, he opted to remain in the shadows, listening and watching in case he was needed. He knew Sansa had to do this on her own if she was ever going to heal from the wounds the Lord had inflicted upon her.

“You are more craven than I had given you credit for Petyr,” she said. “Jon told me you were defiant and cocksure. You don’t appear that way now. Why is that?”

"Lady Sansa," Petyr said. "You of all people know I have dedicated my life to your service. I have served you, protected you, and loved you. I love you the way a man loves a wife. I will do whatever is in my power to take care of you for the rest of my days. Please believe me.”

“I will never believe another word that comes out of your snake mouth,” Sansa said. “The words bubble through the venom.”

“So you are prepared to let a bastard issue an execution order for a Lord?” Petyr questioned.

"No I am not," Sansa said. "My husband, Prince Jon Targaryen has ordered and signed the warrant for your execution…with the blessing of both the High Queen and myself.”

“Sansa….” Petyr’s voice cracked. “You can’t mean to let me die. I am yours. I always have been and I always will be. I am in your service. Please don’t let this come to pass.”

“Your actions have left me with no choice,” she said coldly. “I may have been able to forgive you for what you have done to me. You lied to me. You beat me. You raped me.”

“Sansa….”

“Shut your mouth,” she snapped. “You will die. You are not going to die in revenge of your transgressions against me. You are going to die for what you could and would do if we left you to live. I cannot risk your heart beating because it is a black heart full of rage, hatred, and jealousy. Your demise will protect everything I hold dear in my life. Letting you live puts my husband and my son at risk and there is no way I will ever allow your scheming and deceptions to cause harm to them.”

“Are you really prepared to kill me?” Petyr raised an eyebrow to her. His face appearing almost amused.

“No Lord Baelish,” she said. “My husband will perform your execution. I will however be there to witness it. I can make you one promise though. When I leave the arena, I will have a smile on my face, my soul finally free.”

“I am to be killed in an arena?”

“Prince Jon was not jesting when he said you would burn in dragon fire. That will be the method of your death. Though I believe it to be too quick of a death, at least in my opinion. If I were you, I would get yourself together so the people of King’s Landing don’t remember you as a sniveling coward like Ramsay Snow.” Sansa looked at him intensely, her Tully blue eyes burrowing into his soul. She smiled when she saw him shiver. “Please feel free to use your remaining days to make your peace with your Creator.”

She turned and walked back towards the door, passing Jon as she did.

"Come Jon," she said without looking back. "We need to get back to Aemon. Today is a big day."

Jon jogged to keep up with her. “Gods you’re a scary woman.”

“I am a Mother. I am the most dangerous creature in the World.” 


	13. Retribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was bound to be an explosion at some point.
> 
> The House of Baelish is destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the point where the story is going to start going considerably darker. 
> 
> There was bound to be an explosion between Sansa and Jon, not necessarily because of one another but rather all the issues from the past and the stress of dealing with Baelish. 
> 
> I think we've all had those times with our partner when something lights off and you end up having a go at each other.

Jon hadn’t slept all night. He lay awake watching Sansa toss and turn, her sleep fitful and patchy. It had been quite a while since Jon had journeyed into Sansa’s dreams but he was curious what was causing her such discomfort. He wasn’t surprised when he was met with a series of images that made bile rise in his throat. His heart beat faster and his anger surged so much that his body felt overheated and prickly. The only solace he got in the images was the rage it reignited inside of him, the same feeling he had the first time he and Sansa had truly connected physically and he had seen those thoughts for the first time. Witnessed first hand the mental, physical, and sexual abuse his wife had suffered through at the hands of Petyr Baelish. He felt almost maniacal when he pictured mounting Rhaegal and flying over Lord Baelish’s head right before he gave the order to burn him alive. He should have felt sick to his stomach at the thought of killing another human but it was quite the opposite. Jon was surprised to find he was getting an erection from thinking about it. Though he wasn’t sure if it was thinking about executing Baelish or remembering how powerful and frankly scary his wife had looked when she was in the cells with her abuser. Jon wasn’t sure if he had ever been as proud of Sansa outside of the day she gave birth to their son.  
Jon knew the sun must be coming up as the room began to lighten, allowing him to see around the room and see Sansa lying next to him. She was bare, bruises scattered across her back from Jon’s teeth, their lovemaking the previous night having been intense and all consuming. Jon hadn’t intended to mark her, he would never want to hurt her, but they had both been so far gone that neither noticed the damage they were inflicting on one another. When he sat up, he could feel the sting of the scratches along his back and ass, dug into his skin by Sansa’s nails. He smiled when he saw the bloody tracks on the sheets and even entertained the idea of keeping them for posterity. He imagined Sansa was going to be horrified when she awoke to the mess they had made but he had no regrets.  
After they had left the cells the night before, Jon had held Sansa’s hand as they walked back to their chambers. Jon spoke to Sansa quietly and gently as they walked up the stairs, her face giving nothing away and her silence practically screaming in his ears. Her thoughts were blocked from him causing him to resort to taking her emotional temperature. He could feel something building within her but he couldn’t place it until they reached the door of their chamber.

“I had a bath brought up for you,” he said. “I’ll help you undress and call for dinner. We can eat in our solar so you don’t have to deal with anyone tonight.”

“I’m fine Jon,” she said in a clipped tone.

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he said. “I’m just trying to..”

Sansa cut him off. “You’re trying to treat me like a fucking child Jon. I’m not made of glass. I’m not going to fucking break.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she snarked. “I’m tired of everyone moving around me like I’m going to fall to my knees with emotional exhaustion like some powdered fucking lady. I am Sansa fucking Stark Targaryen. I am Warden in the North. I am the wife of the Targaryen Prince. My son will be the next King on the Iron Throne. I will not have anyone believing me to be weak.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Jon said. “I’m just worried about you with the execution tomorrow.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “I have been looking forward to this since the day I got away from him. I used to fantasize about slicing his throat open while he was raping me. Did you know I almost came when I thought of his blood pouring over my body as he died?”

“Seven hells Sansa!” Jon roared. “You have to stop. I can’t take any more. Please.”

“No Jon,” she said. “I won’t stop. I’m going to enjoy every moment of tomorrow. If I could personally mount Rhaegal and scream the order myself, I would. As it stands, I find myself wanting to throw you to ground, sink down on you, and ride you until you scream my name every time I picture you executing him.”

Jon’s heart was pumping madly. He was sure Sansa knew how she was making him feel when she fixed her eyes on him, slightly raising one of her eyebrows.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Sansa said sarcastically. “Am I not playing the role of Lady Targaryen as you would like?”

Jon pushed her back against the door, taking her hands in his and raising them above their heads. He kissed her hard, moving his lips down her neck and nipping the skin with his teeth. He felt her excitement surge through him, almost bringing him to his knees.

“You know damn well I have never expected you to be anything you don’t want to be. You aren’t Lady fucking Targaryen. You are Sansa. Clearly you have mistaken me for one of your commonfolk but that is your folly. I am your husband, I know you better than anyone possibly could. You are welcome to present whatever face you want to the rest of the world but you will not shove that bullshit down my throat.”

Sansa pushed against him, trying to free her wrists from his grip. “Fuck you Jon!”

“No, fuck you.” He pressed his hips against hers, wanting her to feel his arousal. “Tomorrow we are going to kill that sadistic son of a bitch and then I am taking you and Aemon home. We belong in the North and that is where we will stay.”

What followed was one of the most intense and volatile nights of their marriage. They both raged, not necessarily at each other but at every thing life had thrown at them. They barely made it into their chambers before ripping the clothes off of one another. Their kisses were raw and violent. Teeth clashing, lips bitten, and the taste of blood in their mouths. When Sansa shoved Jon back, he responded by dipping down and lifting her over his shoulder, carrying her to their bed and throwing her across it.

When he entered her, it wasn’t slow and gentle as he normally would. He knew she was more than ready for him and when he sank into her, he yelled, his voice echoing through the room. Sansa met each of his harsh thrusts with her own, gripping his ass and digging her nails into his flesh.

“Fuck Sansa!” He could feel the trickle of blood cool in the air and drip down the back of his thighs. Her nails scraped across his back, up and down, side to side. He gasped and arched his back, pushing himself farther into her. The pain of her sharp nails was euphoric, forcing every other thought and stress out of his mind, allowing him to focus on Sansa and the sensation going through his body. When he felt like he could take no more, he pulled out of her, sitting back on his legs, he eyed her up and down.

“Turn over,” he said.

Sansa didn’t move. She looked at him defiantly, knowing what he would do. In a move so quick she didn’t have time to prepare, Jon flipped her over and used his thigh to spread her legs before entering her from behind. Taking the curtain of red hair in his hand, he wrapped it around his fist and moved it to the side before kissing and biting the tender skin on her shoulders and back. He knew he was biting too hard but with every bite, she responded to him by moaning and rearing her ass back against him.

“Pull it,” Sansa gasped.

Jon stopped. “Pull what?”

“My hair Jon,” she said. “Pull my hair!” Jon tugged at her hair lightly. “Pull it harder Jon!”

Jon pulled her hair harder, exposing her neck to him, he sucked blooms into the soft, silky skin as he continued to thrust against her. He brushed her ear with his lips, nipping lightly at her lobe. “You’re mine Sansa. I’m yours. Everything else around us doesn’t exist. Just you and me Sansa. You and me!”

Sansa’s back arched, her body trembling as she turned her face into the pillow and screamed. She spasmed around him, pulling his peak from him. He pressed as far into her as he could before roaring a series of filthy words so loud it could probably be heard all the way down the corridor and filling her with his seed. He collapsed on top of her, taking a moment to catch him breath before noticing the angry red splotches he knew he was responsible for. Gone was the anger and maniacal drive that had taken him into its hold. What was left behind was Jon, the man that loved his Sansa. He lightly kissed each welt, investigating each one to see how severe they were and if she was going to need attention from the Maester. His back and sides burned from the scratches but it had nothing on the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the damage he had done to his wife. He moved lower, resting his head on her lower back in the dip above her backside. And he wept.

Jon felt Sansa’s fingers card through his hair, her touch so tender it sent shivers down his spine. “I love you Jon,” she whispered. “Rest now.” He nodded his head and closed his eyes but he didn’t sleep. He listened as Sansa’s breathing slowed and she fell into slumber, moving to her side when she twisted away and pulling her against him. He held her tightly through the night, squeezing her tighter when he would see the ugly pictures in her head and feel her body tense and fight.

When the sun rose, he knew she was awake even though she stayed still in his arms for well over an hour after waking. He rolled her to her back, moving over her and entering her slowly. He didn’t thrust but rather glided back and forth, speaking loving words in her ear as she rolled her hips against him. He reached between their bodies, pressing his thumb against her nub and circling until she reached her peak, her mouth falling open as her eyes closed. When he felt his end coming, he tried to pull away from her but she held him firmly as he spilled inside of her.

They bathed together, forgoing servants, preferring to help each other wash and dress for the day ahead. Neither said much, their touches and affection filling the quiet. They went to the nursery to see Aemon, Sansa feeding him as Jon let him hold his finger with his tiny little hand. When it was time to go to the arena, they stepped out of the keep, hand-in-hand, both stone faced.

When they entered the arena, the gathered crowds in the stands cheered. Both Jon and Sansa nodded towards the people before Jon guided Sansa to the seat next to Dany, kissing her hand and directing her to sit. They shared a knowing look before Jon left to get prepared to take to flight with Rhaegal. Even with the hours and hours of practice with Dany, the dragons still made Jon incredibly nervous. It had taken him weeks to master the physical and mental control of Rhaegal and even longer than that to finesse his Valyrian enough to be able to give orders competently. He was secure in his ability to carry out this execution but even being a Targaryen didn’t guarantee that Rhaegal would obey him. Dragons are still wild animals, just as the direwolf is, and he doesn’t expect Rhaegal to be any more tame than Ghost ever has been.

As he climbed onto the saddle, he could feel the heat from the dragon’s scales between his legs. To the average person, it would be uncomfortably hot if not unbearable but it felt like nothing more than a slight warmth to Jon. He waited for the verbal cue from Dany, the official reading of the execution order and her introduction of Jon before giving Rhaegal the order to take flight. As the dragon flapped its wings, the sand and people around were blown backwards, the beast lifting off the ground and roaring as it came up and over the side of the arena. They floated above the center of the arena, hovering over a very scared and shaking Petyr Baelish. Jon took a moment to look the man in the eyes before touching Rhaegal’s shoulder and shouting out, “Dracarys!”

The flames shot from the mouth of the flying lizard, enveloping Baelish, his screams lasting for mere seconds before fading. The crowd screamed, some shouting out as if they were watching a sporting event, but a good lot of them just sat stunned as they watched the flames burn the House of Baelish out of the history books.

Jon looked towards Sansa.

_We_ _are going home on the morrow._

She smiled, letting him know that she had heard him without his lips moving.

_Go to the nursery and get Aemon. I’ll see you in our chambers when I am done._

Sansa stood, curtseyed to the Queen, and turned towards the Keep. As she walked down the stone corridor, she smiled.


	14. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon takes his family back to Winterfell.
> 
> Sansa has a secret.
> 
> The last person they wanted to ever be near again shows up in Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited about writing this chapter because it is when the groundwork is laid for the big conflict in the story. I put some of my other stories to the side until I could get this one typed out because I'm finally in the stretch where the best part of the story happens. Hope you guys like where this ends up.

Jon held Sansa tightly to him as they soared through the sky on Rhaegal’s back.  Aemon was wrapped in warm furs and strapped security around Sansa’s chest and waist, oblivious to the cold and motion of the beast as he slept like a stone.  Jon had laughed at the beginning of their journey when he realized Aemon was sleeping through the cold, the motion, and the noise as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  It reminded him of when he was a boy and Robb would always have to come find him in his bed for their lessons because he slept so deeply that even the ruckus of a massive castle wouldn’t wake him.  Thinking about Robb made his chest ache so he diverted his thoughts back to Sansa.

 

Jon had intended to take Sansa and Aemon out of King’s Landing the day after Baelish was executed but it didn’t work out that way.  They had been delayed nearly three moons before they were able to depart.  Dany had required his assistance in pulling together a new council and solidifying her rule in Westeros.  Official paperwork had to be completed, naming Jon the next heir to the Iron Throne to be followed by his son.  Jon became more impatient as the days went by, desperately wanting to get his family back to Winterfell before the winter set in and made travel nearly impossible.  Another delay to their plans was the need to provide a place to keep Rhaegal once they arrived in the North.  The last few weeks in the Keep had been nothing more than waiting for a raven to let them know Winterfell was prepared for their arrival.

 

Sansa, unlike their son had not taken well to their mode of transportation.  Jon had assured her that it was fine but he had fought the urge to vomit himself when she unexpectedly got sick midair.  That had required landing, washing his clothes off in the creek, and him spending several hours freezing his stones off while huddling up to Rhaegal naked as the day he was born.  By the time they arrived in Winterfell, Jon wasn’t sure taking a dragon had really saved them time between needing to stop for Sansa to get sick, Aemon needing to be changed and his wife’s inability to hold her water.  But they did arrive safely so as far as Jon was concerned, it worked out one way or another.

 

They had been home for nearly a week when they were finally able to get back into the task of ruling Winterfell.  Though they had left competent men in charge during their leave, there was a lot of work to be done before the snow arrived.  Jon was busy from the time the sun came up until the sun went down.  Most days he didn’t see Sansa until they met in the hall for supper.  It was Sam who had sought Jon out to speak to him about his concerns.

 

Jon was in the storage yard, taking inventory of the harvest and trying to figure out in his head how to divide it up and transport it efficiently to prevent starvation amongst the people in the North as winter set in. 

 

“Your Grace,” Sam said.  He was winded from climbing up the hill, his face red and moist, even in the cold air.  “Might I have a word with you?”

 

“No,” Jon said.  “His Grace is too busy to be bothered with a Maester.”

 

“My apologies, I will find a better time to share my concerns with you.”  Sam bowed.

“Gods you’re thick,” Jon said.  “No Sam…you may not speak with _His Grace_ , you can however speak to me, Jon.”

 

“Your Grace…”

 

“Jon,” he said.  “If you call me by that ridiculous title again, I’ll have you dropped from the skies off of Rhaegal and let him have you as a snack.”

 

“Does he eat people?” Sam asked nervously.

 

“Don’t know,” Jon said.  “I’ve never thought to ask him.”  He grinned at his old friend.  “What is it you needed to speak to me about?”

 

“I am concerned about Her Grace,” Sam stammered.

 

“Sansa,” Jon said.  “And why?  Is there something wrong?  Has she sent for you?”

 

“No.  She hasn’t sent for me but I’ve noticed that her traveling illness hasn’t passed,” he said.  “She is still getting sick on a regular basis.  Her ladies have told me of her chamber pot needing to be emptied because she isn’t well.”

 

Jon’s mind raced.  He and Sansa hadn’t been well bonded since the night before Baelish’s execution in King’s Landing.  They had been cordial with one another, even affectionate but Jon had made a point of staying out of her head as she coped with the aftermath of the events at the Keep.  Most of their interactions had involved Aemon now that he really thought about it. His stomach lurched.

 

“I have to go,” Jon said.  “Thank you Sam.”  He began running towards the castle, trying to connect to Sansa but finding she had blocked him. Something was going on.  She rarely blocked him and when she did, she had a good reason for it.  He mentally called out for her only to have it returned to him.  When she wasn’t open, his words sounded different.  When she heard him, it was like his words were an echo rather than the flat tone they had when she wasn’t perceptive. 

 

By the time he reached their chamber, he felt like his chest was going to explode.  He took a moment in the corridor to catch his breath and run his fingers through his hair.  Straightening his clothing, he opened the door to an empty solar.

 

“Sansa,” he said softly.  He walked towards their bed chamber, quietly pushing the door open to find her lying on the bed, sleeping with Aemon next to her.  Their son was awake, playing with a soft toy and smiled brightly when he saw Jon.  Picking the babe up, he went back out into the solar.

 

“I’m going to let you go play with your nurse for a little bit,” he said.  “I need to talk to Mommy.”

 

Even though Jon could read Aemon just as he could Sansa, the baby didn’t communicate in words yet.  Jon felt like he was speaking a foreign language when he tried to decipher the images he got from his son but he understood what Jon was saying to him.  From what Jon could tell, Aemon already had quite an affection for his nurse.

 

When Jon returned from the nursery, he went back to their bed chamber.  He stripped down to his tunic and breeches before climbing into the bed next to his wife.

 

“Sansa,” he whispered.  He lightly touched her shoulder, giving her a little shake.  “Sansa…sweetling…wake up.  I need to talk to you.”

 

Sansa woke with a start.  Her eyes scanned the bed desperately as panic set in.  “Oh Gods!  Where’s Aemon!?!?!?!”

 

“Sssshhh!  It’s okay,” Jon said.  “I took him to the nursery.  He’s fine.”

 

“Oh.”  Sansa sunk back onto the bed.  “You want to take your rights?”

 

Jon made a face at her.  “No, I mean, well…yes…at some point but not right now.  I just want to talk to you.”

 

“About what?” Sansa asked.

 

“I didn’t know I needed a specific reason to speak to my wife,” Jon said sharply.  “Should I ask one of your ladies if I am permitted to have an audience with you?”

 

Sansa glowered at him.  “Well my King,” she said.  “If his Grace is going to be an ass, then yes, I would recommend scheduling an appointment for a time when I am willing to listen to his shit.”

 

Jon got out of the bed and walked towards the door.  “I am not going to speak to you when we are angry.  I don’t know why you are in this state but I am not willing to say words to you that I am going to regret.  I love you.”

 

Jon spent the rest of the afternoon with Aemon out on the grounds of Winterfell, introducing him to the people who worked for the family.  At six moons old now, it was time for the babe to leave the confines of the castle and get to know the people he would be spending his youth with.  Jon even allowed the cook to sneak the little one a nip of sweet cream after making her swear not to tell Sansa.  She was already angry enough with him.

 

When the sun set, Jon returned Aemon to the nursery and found that a bath had been prepared for the Prince and a nursemaid was waiting.

“You can go down to the hall for supper milady,” Jon said.  “I will bathe Aemon tonight.”

 

“Are you sure your Grace?” the woman asked.  “It is no bother and I wouldn’t want to trouble my King.”

 

Jon sighed.  “It is no trouble.  I am a Father before I am a King.”  Jon smiled kindly towards her.  “Please, go eat.  And have some ale.  I will care for the babe tonight.  Please instruct the night nurse that she may also take this evening off.”

 

“Yes my King,” the woman said before bowing and leaving the room.

 

Jon stripped the baby down and lowered him carefully into the water.  As he washed him up, he played the game they had been playing all day where Jon would push images of funny things into the babe’s thoughts and Aemon would laugh hysterically.  When they finished his bath, Jon carefully dried and dressed him before sitting down in a rocking chair with him.

 

“Shit,” he said before he could catch himself.  “You have to eat and I just sent your supper wagon away.”

 

“Didn’t think that one out very well did you?”  Sansa said from behind them. 

 

Jon didn’t turn around.  Looking down at Aemon, he smiled.  The moment Sansa walked into the room, it was as if Jon ceased to exist.  “I rarely do but then, you know that.”

 

Sansa sat in the chair next to them, unfastening her blouse and reaching her hands out to take the babe.  She winced when he latched on.  She rocked as the baby fed, looking at Jon without saying a word.

 

“So is this us now?” Jon asked.  “The King and Queen that don’t speak yet pretend to be happy in public?”

 

“No, that is not us.  That is never going to be us.”  Sansa switched the babe to the other side. 

 

Jon fell to his knees in front of her.  He rested his head on her lap and closed his eyes when her fingers moved through his curls. 

 

“I’ve always loved your hair,” Sansa said.  “Even when we were children, I wished I could have beautiful curls like yours.  I hoped my children would get these curls and have the raven hair, not my red.”

 

Jon’s breaths were deep and shuddered.  “Please forgive me.  I never should have done that to you.  I was an animal and I am so very sorry.  I would die before I would ever hurt you.  I hope you know that.”

 

“I am not angry with you,” Sansa said.  “You didn’t hurt me any more than I hurt you.”

 

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Jon said wistfully.  “It was wrong.  I had hoped to show you how sorry I was when I loved you in the morning but…I don’t think I succeeded.”

 

“On the contrary,” Sansa said.  “I enjoyed that night very much.”

 

Jon shook his head against her thigh.  “I was too rough with you.”

 

Sansa laughed lightly, startling Aemon who had dozed off after getting his fill.  He looked at both of them before closing his eyes again.  “I liked it.  More than I care to admit.  Not everything between us is going to be gentle and loving.”  Sansa stood, motioning to Jon to follow her.  When they reached their chambers, she gave the baby to Jon to put in his bed.  When Jon returned, she turned her back towards him.  “Can you help me unlace this?”

 

Jon’s fingers felt clumsy and awkward as they pulled at the ties and loosened her corset.  When she was down to her shift, he carefully helped her to take the tight plaits out of her hair and tie it back with ribbon.

 

“Am I allowed to share our bed tonight?” Jon asked.

 

"If I asked you to sleep on the floor, you would do it wouldn’t you?” she asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I would ask that you sleep in our bed,” she said. 

 

When they had settled under the furs, Sansa tucked into Jon’s side, his arms around her shoulders, they lay in silence until Jon spoke.

 

“I took Aemon out today,” he said.  “He met a lot of our people.  They all love him.”

 

“I know,” she said.  “I saw you.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, you didn’t really think I wouldn’t keep an eye on you two did you?” she asked. 

 

“You don’t trust me with our son?”  Jon wasn’t sure if he was offended or not.

 

“I trust you implicitly with Aemon,” she said.  “I wasn’t snooping because I don’t trust you.  I just wanted to see what you two do together when I’m not there.”

 

Jon smiled.  “We just do boy stuff.”

“Like lick sweet cream?” Sansa asked jovially.

 

Jon bit his lip.  “I know not of what you speak of my Lady…..who told you?”

 

Sansa laughed.  “Aemon did.  I can do the same tricks as you.  He was pretty excited about the cream.  Trying to avoid me finding anything out is a pointless endeavor you know.”

 

“Aye.  Though I think that is going to be a bigger burden for our children than for me,” he said.  “At least I have ways to get forgiveness.”

 

Sansa playfully slapped his chest. 

 

Jon woke in the middle of the night, Sansa wasn’t in their bed and he could hear her in the side room where they bathed and used the chamber pot.  She was retching in between moans.  He got out of bed quickly, walking swiftly across the cold stone floor.  He carefully pushed the door open to see Sansa on the floor with a chamber pot.  He fell to his knees beside her, taking her hair and pulling it back.

 

“Sansa,” he whispered.  “Sweetling….Sam said you were still suffering from the same sickness from the traveling.  Why haven’t you gone to see him?”

 

Jon handed her a linen that she gratefully took and wiped her mouth with.  “I don’t need to see a Maester.  I know what is wrong.”

 

“Are you dying?” Jon asked in fear.

 

“No,” she responded.  “Nothing that simple.”

 

“Please Sansa…What is wrong?” 

 

“I am with child again Jon,” Sansa said.

 

Jon’s eyes were wide.  “What?  How did that happen?  We have been so careful since Aemon was born.”

 

Sansa sighed.  “We haven’t been that careful husband.  If you recall, the night we….well…THAT night, you spent your seed inside of me.  And you did it again in the morning.”

 

“Fuck,” he said.  His mind went back to that night and she was right, he had been so lost in the moment, he hadn’t pulled away from to spill his seed.  And in the morning, they had held onto each other like it was the end of the world.  “I did.  I hadn’t even thought about that.”

 

Sansa dry heaved.  “Please go back to bed.  I don’t want you to see this.”

 

Jon rubbed her back.  “I’m here.  I’ll hold your hair.  It’s the least I can do after putting another babe in your belly.  I am such an ass.  You just gave me a son and I did this….”

 

“We did this.”

 

“How long have you known?” Jon asked.

 

“Since the Keep,” she said.  “I’m already three moons gone.”

 

Jon helped Sansa to stand up.  “Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?”

 

Biting her lip, Sansa looked at him cautiously.  “I wanted to come home Jon.  I wanted out of King’s Landing and you would have made us wait if you knew I was with child.  And I was scared to tell you.  I knew you were going to be unhappy about this.”

 

A little growl came from Jon’s throat.  “You should have told me.  You’re right, we wouldn’t have risked traveling so far in your condition.”  He pulled her against him.  “But no, I am not unhappy about this.  We have created another life and at least this time we are wed and home.  I am upset that you hid this though.  We swore to never keep secrets from one another.  You have blocked me all this time.”

 

“I’m sorry Jon,” Sansa pleaded.  “I just couldn’t risk you finding out like that.  I wanted to tell you when the time was right.  When we were safe.”

 

“I will always keep you safe, no matter where we are,” Jon said.  “I’m actually quite relieved to know this is a babe and not some other illness.  When Sam came to me, I was so scared I ran here.”

 

“And I was an ass to you,” she said quietly.

 

“We’re married,” he said.  “That is going to happen.  However, we are going to see Sam in the morning to make sure everything is okay.”

 

“Yes my King.”

 

“Don’t be an ass,” he said.  “Um…let’s get you changed.  You have a little bit of uh…sick on your nightrail.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Sansa exclaimed.

 

Jon helped her lift the linen over her head, careful to avoid the sick touching her hair.  “Have I told you that hearing you curse does something to me?  I mean, not in public but hearing you say fuck makes me want to…”

 

Sansa slapped his arm and laughed.  When she looked back at Jon, she stopped.  He was looking at her belly that had already started to protrude.

 

“May I?” he asked. 

 

She nodded her head.  Jon traced his fingers along the curve of her middle between her hip and the new bump.  Spreading his fingers, he placed his hand over her lower abdomen.  He felt strange.  He had done the same thing when he found out she was carrying Aemon but there was something that felt like it was physically pulling at him.  He looked up at Sansa inquisitively.

 

“Yes, I know.”  She placed her hand over his.  “It has been doing the same to me.  And I think this is a girl.”

 

Jon felt the roots of his hair tingle.  He didn’t want to read too much into what he was feeling, trying to attribute it to the news that they were to have another babe but this reminded him of the ache he had felt when he faced the white walkers during his time with the Watch. 

 

“Can you get me the clean shift I have in the bureau?” Sansa asked.

 

Jon turned to retrieve the piece of clothing before stopping and looking back at Sansa.  He grinned and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to their bed and laying her down carefully.  He began kissing down her body, her skin feeling like silk on his lips.

 

"Jon!" Sansa gasped through giggles.  "What are you doing?"

 

“My wife is carrying my babe,” he said.  “I do believe I am in debt to you.”  He gave her a crooked grin before going even lower and kissing the inside of her thigh.  “It has been too long since I have tasted you and felt you fall apart in my arms.  I am a man in search of satisfaction my Lady.”

 

He shoulders her legs apart, using his fingers to open her to him before licking into her.  He loved the way she tasted.  He wanted all of her all at the same time but he needed to take his time.  Her first peak came quickly, her legs shaking around his head.  The second time he brought her over, he thought she was going to leave him with a bald spot with as hard as she was pulling his hair.  By the third time, she was pushing him back and begging for him to stop.  He laid his head on her hip and watched her as she dozed off.  Before he fell asleep, he thought about forgoing his morning bath so he could spend all day tomorrow with her on his lips.

 

They were woken by a loud knock on the door.  Aemon started screaming and Jon’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.  Another bang on the door had him running through the solar, yanking the door open without thinking about the state he was in.  He was wearing nothing but his breeches that were unlaced.

 

Standing in the hallway was Sam, panic on his face and sweating profusely. “Jon!  The Red Woman is here!  She is demanding to see you.  She says it is absolutely urgent and it has something to do with the babe Sansa is carrying.”

 

Jon choked.  “How the fuck would she know Sansa is with child?  We haven’t told anybody!  I just found out myself!”

 

“I don’t know Jon but you have to go.  She is threatening to come find you in your chambers if she must!” Sam gasped out as he tried to catch his breath.

 

Jon looked back at Sansa who was trying to calm Aemon.  Jon caught his tunic Sansa had tossed to him and pulled it over his head as he walked swiftly through the corridor.

 

“Sam,” Jon said.  “Go tell Tormund to get a few of the wildlings and some of the Guard.  I want the door to our chambers protected with a wall of men.  Under no circumstances is Melissandre to get anywhere near Sansa or Aemon.  Do you hear me?  No where near them!”

 

"Yes Jon," Sam said.  "I am going right now."

 

Jon pointed at a guard standing at the end of the hall.  “You, go to our chambers and stand guard until the rest of the men get here.  Nobody but me or Sam is to enter that room.”

 

Jon broke into a run as he went down the stairs and into the courtyard.  The Red Woman was standing with a circle of men surrounding her.  When he cut through the line of men, he looked her in the eye.

 

“Why are you here Melissandre?” he demanded.

 

“The Lord of Light has sent me,” she said calmly.  “Your babe will have need of me.”

 

Jon’s stomach lurched and he threw up bile into the dirt.


	15. Another Stark of Winterfell

Jon fought the urge to strike the woman down where she stood. His emotions going between anger and absolute terror. He had spent the last two years dreading the day she would reappear in their lives, what the price of his life was going to be and if Sansa would be the one who had to pay it.   
“You can’t be here,” Jon said harshly. “You have no reason to be in the North and no place at Winterfell.”  
“Jon,” she said calmly. “I am not here to harm you or Sansa. That has never been my intention.”  
“Is that what you told Stannis right before you burned his daughter alive?” Jon sneered. “That you meant no harm? Or did he know that you would destroy his life and everyone he loved? I won’t let you do that to my family!”  
“This isn’t about you. This is about her,” she said.  
“Sansa?”  
“No,” Melissandre said. “Your daughter.”  
Jon lunged at her, his hands wrapping around her throat as they both fell to the ground. Guards ran across the courtyard towards them. His fingers tightened around her neck, his face turning red and sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion yet the woman didn’t flinch. Her facial features remained serene, as if she were doing nothing more than observing him.   
The men grabbed Jon, four of them needing to use all their power to get him off of the Red Witch. Sam babbled something from behind him but Jon couldn’t hear him, his focus solely on the woman still lying on the ground. Rage emanated through him.  
“Jon Snow,” she said. “If you want to save your family and the people in the North and Westeros, you are going to listen to me and do as I tell you. If you do not, we will all die. It will be the end of man.”  
“Fuck!” Jon roared. “Why is it always me? I’ve done my fucking duty! I served on the Wall! I saved the Wildlings! I fucking died trying to do what I thought was right! When do I get to live? When do I get to know my family safe? I have lost almost everyone I have ever loved! My wife has suffered too much of this fucked up World. What do I have to do to finally have peace?!?”  
“You have to sacrifice Lord Snow,” she said. “The Lord of Light will accept nothing less.”  
“I can’t give you our daughter,” he said. “I won’t. I will let every man, woman, and child rot in the dirt before I tell my wife that she has to give you her babe. Every drop of my blood will pour into the snow before I will ever let that happen.”  
Melissandre got to her feet, shaking the snow from her cloak. “We have no intention of taking or killing your babe. The Lord of Light has sent me hear to protect you and your family. To hold back the evil that threatens to pour into the North until your babe is ready to take her place.”  
“What place? She is nothing more than a bump in my wife’s belly.” Jon couldn’t understand what she was talking about.   
“Your boy will defend the South as the next Dragon but your daughter,” she said. “Your daughter will save the World.”  
Jon fell to his knees. “I’m so lost. I don’t understand. How is a babe going to save the World?”  
From behind him, Sansa spoke. “She will grow and as a woman, she will be the end of the White Walkers.”  
Jon looked at his wife, his eyes wide. “What?”  
“You have to fight Jon,” she said. “You will have to fight to give her every name day she needs until she is old enough to do what she needs to do to save our people.”  
“Sansa,” Jon croaked. “I don’t have any more to give. I’m broken. All I want in life is to protect my wife. See my children grow. Keep Winterfell for our family. I can’t fix the World. I don’t want this. I just want you and our babes. Please don’t ask more of me.”  
Sansa dropped down next to Jon, taking his hands in hers and raising them to her lips. She kissed his knuckles and caressed his face. “Do you remember the stories Old Nan used to tell us about the Night King?”  
“Aye,” he said quietly. “Vaguely.”  
“Then you know that you have to do this,” Sansa said.   
Jon stood, his lips in a tight line. “You have no idea what you are talking about. I have seen the Night King! He’s not just some character in a story to me. He’s not the thing that scares you awake from nightmares. I have fucking seen him! I know what he does! We will not win and doing this would be sacrificing our child. Our daughter’s life will be forfeit before she’s even born!”  
“We don’t know that.” Sansa rose from the ground, taking Jon’s face between her hands. “We have no idea what the future holds or what will happen if we do this but we do know what is going to happen if we don’t. She needs her Father to guide her and stand behind her when it is time for her to take the lead.”  
“So we are expected to give our children to save the World? We have already given too much. I cannot allow this!” Jon yelled.  
“You will have many children,” Melissandre said. “Your line will live on.”  
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Jon demanded. “The number of children we have has nothing to do with this. All of our children are ours and deserve to live their natural lives! We cannot decide which of our children should live and which should die!”  
“It will not be your choice,” she said. “She will make that choice and she already has.”  
“You’re saying a babe not yet born has already chosen her fate?” Jon sneered.   
“Of course she has,” Melissandre said. “We all choose what life we will have while we are incarnate. We choose our parents, we choose the trajectory of our life, and we choose our death.”  
“Fuck you!” Jon grabbed Sansa’s hand, pulling her behind him as he walked briskly towards the castle. When they reached their chambers, Jon practically pushed her into the solar, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him and dropping the bar to lock it.  
“Jon….” Her heart was racing. Fear piercing through her chest.  
When he turned to look at her, his face softened. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just angry. Give me a moment.”  
Sansa waited with baited breath, not sure if she should speak or try to comfort him, ultimately choosing to sit in the chair in front of the hearth and wait for him to come to her. He paced the floor, back and forth for what seemed like miles until he came to sit in front of her. Squatting to the ground, he looked up to where she was seated and sighed. His hands held her calves while he rested his head on her lap.  
“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “This is an impossible choice. Sacrifice one of our children so the others can live? Let her face her death to save people who will never even know her name. In a few generations, her story will be nothing but words in a dusty old book. What will be the point of all this?”  
“We will know she existed. Every Stark and Targaryen will know she existed. We know all about Brandon the Builder and our ancestors who are buried in the crypt next to our parents and grandparents. She will not ever be forgotten,” Sansa whispered. “Not by the ones who will know her and love her for many generations to come throughout the North and Winterfell.”  
“How are we supposed to raise her knowing that she will be going to slaughter?” Jon asked.  
“We won’t,” she said. “We will raise her as our daughter. She will be a little girl. She will grow into a young woman. She will be our child, our children’s sister, and if the Gods be good, a blessed man’s wife and our grandchildren’s Mother. We don’t know when she will have to face the Others. Or that she won’t be victorious. I have faith in her. She comes from a long line of powerful warriors. You forget, she is Ned Stark’s Granddaughter and Jon Snow’s daughter.”  
“Technically she is a Targaryen,” Jon said.   
“But she will be fierce like her Father,” she countered. “Jon Snow is the warrior. Jon Targaryen is the Prince.”  
“I wish she had the option of being kind and gentle like her Mother,” Jon said. “And got to grow in a World that allowed for fairy tales and the romantic notions of young girls.”  
Sansa stared into the fire and smiled. Her fingers played with the black curls on Jon’s head as they sat in silence for a few moments.  
“I don’t trust Melissandre,” Jon said. “If we are to do this, I don’t want her having any part of it. She burns royal children at the stake to keep her God’s favor.”  
“Wouldn’t that be counterproductive to what our daughter is supposed to do?” Sansa asked.  
“Yes but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t light a fire under Aemon or one of our other children,” he said. “I don’t want her near you or the children for any reason. Never. I can’t send her away but she will not be allowed within the walls of Winterfell.”  
“We need to come up with a name for this little girl,” Sansa said. “I want her to be a person for as many moments as we are blessed to have her.”  
Jon looked up at her thoughtfully. “Robbin.”  
“Robbin?” Sansa raised her eyebrows.  
“Yes,” Jon said with a wicked grin. “I quite like the idea of another Robb Stark going through the gates of Winterfell to go to war. Except this time Jon Snow will be at her side.”


	16. Sacrifices We Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion in Winterfell.
> 
> Jon and Sansa struggle to come to terms with what their future holds.
> 
> Reinforcements come in from the South.
> 
> Jon has to break a vow and it breaks his heart, even if it is for all the right reasons.

Weeks passed, the snow coming down harder, the days growing shorter and colder. Every new development in Sansa’s pregnancy filled Jon with dread. With Aemon, every moment was new and amazing. He couldn’t wait to get back to their chambers at the end of the day and put his hands on her belly but this pregnancy had cast a dark shadow over their lives. They had fought nearly every day since the meeting with the Red Witch, Jon furious that Sansa would accept their daughter’s fate when he could not, no matter how many different angles he analyzed it from. He didn’t want to be angry with her. His logical mind told him that she had accepted this fate for no other reason than necessity but he wanted her to defy the Gods. He wanted to see the woman who had stood in the cells with Petyr Baelish. He wanted Sansa to scream her defiance into the black of the night. But she wouldn’t. She said very little these days outside of their arguments. They lay in bed at night, both staring at the ceiling and pretending that the person next to them was a stranger, not a lover or friend. Jon watched her sleep for hours. Some nights he would reach out to touch her, as lightly as he could manage to avoid waking her. Even with keeping their distance, they often woke wrapped up in each other, having gone to each other instinctually in their sleep. When Jon would wake before her, he wouldn’t move a muscle. His body could be screaming in discomfort and pain but he would stay still, just to have a few more moments with his wife in his arms. Once she woke, she would look at him sheepishly and move away.  
The harshness of the world they lived in had created them to be hard. Jon had learned that emotion was weakness and fought against public displays of it. He had taken to walking through the woods and often on into the outer lying areas of Winterfell to think in the silence of the snow. He tried to trick himself into believing he was alone but he rarely was. He would hear the crunching of the snow in the distance, footsteps that could only match his Hand’s gait, Davos. The man had come back to Winterfell a few days after Melissandre had been there, in a rage that she would dare to show her face again. Davos had rarely been out of Jon’s presence when he was out of his chambers since his arrival. Another surprise homecoming had been Ghost. 

His direwolf had strolled into the courtyard of the castle one morning casually, as if he hadn’t been missing for moons on end. Jon could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the people scatter and searched for the source of the panic. The beast was sniffing around the ground, following a scent until he found Aemon with the nursemaid playing with the snow. The poor woman looked like she would faint but Ghost and Aemon just watched each other. From his viewpoint on the walkway, he could see Ghost trying to figure out what the little pink thing was. He almost laughed when he saw what Aemon was thinking. He was already trying to figure out how he was going to get on his back for a ride. When Ghost laid down next to the babe, Jon felt his heart sting. Ghost knew Aemon without ever having met him. 

“Ghost!” Jon called out.

The wolf looked up at him, his red eyes shining before turning back towards Aemon and laying his head back down.

“Did you just tell me to fuck off?” Jon asked loudly. He heard a giggle to the left of him, startling him for a second until he turned to see Sansa walking towards him. “Um…Ghost is back.”

“I noticed,” Sansa said. She stood next to him now. “Though from the looks of it, he is no longer your wolf. He has claimed our boy.”

“He knows a Stark when he sees them,” Jon said. He could feel the heat of her body from how close she stood. He reached his hand out, cautiously taking hers in his, intertwining their fingers. When she squeezed his fingers back, he felt his heart skip and raised her hand to his lips to kiss the back of her palm. They walked towards the beast and their son, the nursemaid relieved to see them and even happier to scurry away when they gave her leave.

“Ghost!” Jon said again. This time he picked Aemon up in his arms, kissing the boy on his cheek and nuzzling his nose into the little fat rolls on his neck. “Where have you been?” He wasn’t sure why he was expecting the wolf to respond to him. He had always talked to Ghost and even though there was never a response, he felt like they did communicate and understand one another.

Ghost seemed to understand what he was asking, looking up at Jon though he suspected he was more interested in Aemon than himself. Then he went to Sansa, sniffing around her, nuzzling her growing belly before looking back at Jon and whining.

“I know boy,” Jon said. “I know.”

Then Ghost walked around her, positioning himself in a defensive stance at her side, looking back and forth as if he was anticipating the need to defend her. Jon had never seen Ghost do this, even with him. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or worried. Everything these days felt like a stone in his gut, optimism a faint memory from childhood. Sansa scratched him behind his ears, her eyes on Jon, her gaze intense and unforgiving.

That night, they laid in their bed, the events of the day having led them to retire early.

“We can’t keep doing this Sansa,” Jon said after a long stretch of silence. “Every time there’s a problem hanging over our heads, we split into pieces.”

“You blame me for sending our daughter to her death,” Sansa said. “You think I want this for her.”

“No!” Jon practically yelled. “No. Don’t ever think that. I don’t feel that way at all. I just don’t understand why you have been so complacent with all of this. I’ve never known you to lie down and allow our family to be in danger. I heard your thoughts that day. You were justifying Melissandre’s words. Rather than fighting against it and making an argument for our child, you were thinking of all the reasons it made sense.”  
“Nothing in this world makes sense Jon,” she said. “I didn’t hand over our newborn. I wasn’t even considering Robbin as a child. I was only thinking of her as a woman. Just as I cannot tell you what to do, I cannot bend her will to match my own. She will be a person in her own right with her own life path. If my prayers are answered, she will be a name in the history books that went on to live a beautiful life free of fear and bloodshed. To hold her own babes in her arms knowing they will never see another winter in their lifetime.”

“You always tell me what to do,” Jon said. “I thought that was what wives do.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Sansa said. “Yes, I tell you what to do but rarely do you listen. You have never been a man to be commanded.”

“I can’t let this happen,” Jon whispered. “I don’t know how I can raise our daughter knowing what is going to happen. It feels like raising livestock for slaughter.”

Sansa rolled over to him, nestling at his side with her head on his chest. “If we do it right, she will not be going to the slaughter. She will be a weapon the Others couldn’t have anticipated. You are known the world over as one of the greatest swordsman to ever live. The stories of your battles are legends during your own lifetime. That is rare. Our daughter will learn under a man who not only has the expertise in battle but the experience with fighting these monsters. You aren’t just a hired tutor. You are her Father. She couldn’t be in better hands.”

“I need you,” Jon said.

“I’m right here.”

“No, I mean I need you all the time. I can’t do this without you. There is a reason we are tied together. Outside of the blood magic and family ties, we are bonded for a much deeper purpose. I feel it. I often forget that I am a separate person from you. When I feel like I can’t breathe, I look towards you. Every order I give, every decision I make…I do it with you in mind. I consider what you would say. We can’t cut each other off any more. I’m going to keep myself open to you and I need you to do the same for me. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “But we are going to have to face the fact that there are going to be times when our marriage is going to be tested.”

“I don’t give a shit about our marriage. I care about us. The marriage is nothing more than a physical representation to the rest of the world. You and I aren’t just names on a piece of paper that will be filed away in a dusty old library. I can’t live without you and your physical presence isn’t enough. I need all of you.”

They spent the night talking, touching, kissing, and ultimately making love. The sun broke over the horizon, Sansa stirring in his arms. He held her tighter to him, unwilling to let her go and face the day. When she tried to get up, he pulled her back down, kissing her lips while his hands roamed her body.

“Fuck everyone else today,” he mumbled against her lips. “Let’s stay abed. We will make love until we are too sore to move. Have food brought to us.”

Sansa laughed. “We need to bathe!”

“No, we don’t. I’m just going to dirty you up again anyway.”

“That’s gross Jon,” she said. “We can’t do that!”

“Okay. Fine. But we don’t have to get out of bed yet do we?” he asked. “I can’t face the world just yet.” He began kissing down her body, playing with her breasts until he got to where he was going. Sansa yelped when he shouldered her legs apart and began kissing her mound. “Just a little while longer.”

When Jon was dressed, he looked back wistfully at the bed Sansa was sleeping in. She had dozed back off in his arms after he had brought her to her peak twice more. He couldn’t bring himself to get her up so he silently got dressed, instructing the servants to leave her to rest before going to find Sam.

“I knew you’d be in here,” he said as he walked into the library. “I don’t think any Maester before you has ever spent as much time in here as you. I hated this place when I was little.”

“You aren’t exactly a reader,” Sam teased. “A book to you is like a sword to me.”

“Aye,” Jon said. “I’ll give you that. I need to send a raven to King’s Landing to the Queen. I still haven’t told her about the new babe. And I think she needs to know of the developments.”

“Why haven’t you sent her the news yet?” Sam asked.

“I was trying to figure out what we were going to do before Dany got involved,” Jon said. “This could be a challenging situation. I’m not anticipating she’s going to be happy about one of her heir’s being used as wight bait.”

“Jon! Don’t say that about her!” Sam exclaimed. “It’s not right.”

“I’m not saying Dany only cares about my children as her heirs, I’m just saying…”. He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

“No, Jon. I’m not talking about the Queen. Don’t refer to Robbin as wight bait. She isn’t bait. She’s a baby girl,” Sam said. “I…”

“I’m sorry Sam,” Jon said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t speak in such a way. I know I don’t speak much about this but I want you to know how much I appreciate the love you have for my family. Especially Sansa and the children.”

“It’s nothing. I’m a Maester. It’s my job,” he said.

“No it isn’t. You are a part of our family, not a servant. And as such, I would like to ask you to be Robbin’s guardian should something happen to me.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Sam said. “And I can’t.”

“What? You wouldn’t take my children if I were to fall?” Jon asked shocked.

“Yes, I will take your children. But I will not just take Robbin. I would only take the children if they all go with me,” Sam said. He smiled shyly. “Though at the rate you and the Queen are going, I’m going to have to use Winterfell to house all of them.”

Jon grinned. “I would apologize but it would be a lie. I think it is Sansa’s intention to fill every room in the castle with one of our children. And the Gods know I’m not against the process.”

Both men burst into laughter.

Several weeks passed before Jon received a response from Dany. He wasn’t surprised to see a dragon land in the courtyard with the tiny woman on its back. Jon instructed Sansa to stay within the castle walls, unsure of how the dragon would react to her, especially in her condition. Ghost was already alarmed, the hair on the back of his scruff standing on end. Even Jon trying to calm him was of no use. He had to have the wolf confined within the castle to prevent the two beasts from having a go at one another. 

“Dany,” he called out warmly as he crossed the courtyard. 

Sliding to the ground, Dany patted Drogon and quickly stepped away as he took flight, searching for Rhaegal.

“I’m sure the two of them are going to get into a lot of trouble this evening,” Dany said. She looked up at Jon, taking the hand he offered to help her walk through the muddy ground. “I would have sent a raven to let you know I was coming but I didn’t want it intercepted. Though in hindsight, there is rarely the element of surprise when one is riding a dragon.”

Jon chuckled. “No, you can’t sneak anywhere. I knew you were coming though. Rhaegal began acting strange a couple of days ago. I assumed he could sense Drogon. And you of course.”

“Rhaegal is your dragon. I may have hatched him but he is yours. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have allowed you on his back and he certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to fly away from me,” she said. “Though I do miss him terribly.”

“Being a Targaryen is strange. I end with your child and you will get mine,” he said.

“I will never take you and Sansa’s children,” she said. “Aemon will inherit the Iron Throne but he is and always will be yours.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Rhaegal is still yours too. Speaking of which, how long do dragons live? I’ve tried to find information about it but it seems like the histories are littered with stories of magic and things that are too outrageous to be true. Some of the stories have the same dragons for generations.”

“That isn’t false,” Dany said. “I don’t know for sure how long they live but there have been dragons that have gone through six generations of our ancestors. Hundreds of years. That is why we have to make arrangements not only for our Throne but also our dragons. The new babe will inherit Viserys and the babe after that, Rhaegal.”

Jon didn’t know what to say.

“And we have to take into consideration the possibility that our dragons aren’t the only ones in existence. It stands to sense there are more eggs that haven’t hatched because we were the last two Targaryens. Though I will not be birthing any more dragons in my lifetime. They are too dangerous to have in large numbers and the responsibility is too much. Any dragons brought forth from Targaryen’s will be from your children and grandchildren.”

“Speaking of my children,” Jon said. “I haven’t spoken to Sansa about this yet because I needed to meet with you but, with her permission of course, I would like you to take Aemon with you when you return to King’s Landing.”

“What?” Dany was startled. 

“The North is no longer safe. The Others are coming with their army of the dead and they will reach us first. I would send Sansa with you too but I know she will refuse to leave my side. I’ve already seen her intentions and there is no reasoning with her once she has set her mind to something.” Jon looked around the corridors as they entered the castle, checking for anyone who might overhear their conversation. He lowered his voice. “I think I can convince her of the need to keep Aemon safe from what is coming.”

“I am not returning to King’s Landing any time soon,” she said. “I intend to stand with you against these enemies. I will defend my family and my people. However, if you are willing to put your trust in him, Tyrion will be arriving with Viserys soon and we could send Aemon South with him. He would protect him with his life, not only as my Hand but also for the debt the Lannisters owe your family.”

Jon nodded his head. “I will trust anyone who is willing to take my child away from this. I need him safe if I am to focus on this war.”

“Then we should figure out how we are going to convince Sansa to let him go,” Dany said. “I don’t anticipate this is going to go well.”

“Me either,” Jon said. “I dread doing what I am going to have to do in order to get Aemon to the South.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I am going to be forced to issue an order to my wife,” Jon said. “I promised her I never would. I will have to break a vow I made to her.”

“Would you prefer that I issue the order under the guise of protecting my heir?” Dany asked.

“No,” he said. “I will not deceive her. I wouldn’t have her believing her child has been stolen from her. She needs to know this is being done in love.”

“I agree,” Dany said. “Just remember, regardless of how angry and heartbroken she is, the hateful words she will say to you, this is what must be done if Aemon is to grow into a man. You must stand as a man, her husband, and her King.”

Jon sighed. “Just check on me afterwards to make sure I’m still breathing. I’m not expecting this to go well.”


End file.
